#[sorry the quality went way down I’m v tired]

[spiderman2-99]

A nigh-inaudible low growl from his throat escapes unbidden. Shut up, shut up, shut up about the kids.

Any other day on any other month, he could ignore Peter’s prattling, zone in on work until the other man bores himself, makes some smart-ass comment about him being the only un-fun Spider-Man and leave Miguel to sweet, merciful silence.

Today? He can’t. It’s like his brain has somehow melted out of his skull cavity, trying to do ten-thousand things at once for the half-chance of going home early, planning an altar when he barely remembers how to, what he’ll have to cook, drowning itself in unbidden self-flagellation, over-heated and sluggish like a shitty 2000’s CPU.

Goddamnit, he’s Miguel Shocking O’Hara, vigilante, brilliant scientist, and leader of an interdimensional Spider-Society! He’s better than this. Better than feeling suffocated by Peter’s mere presence, better than the urge to scream at him (It’s not even deserved this time!), better than falling apart at the seams just because of one stupid holiday-

He forces his voice to remain steady, trying not to sound as frayed at he is, trying to unclench his hands and shoulders and jaw. “Don’t wait up for me. It’s just- It’s not important.”

If he gets any more saccharine words or attempts at ‘putting him at ease’ or that horrible, awful concern, he’s going to actually lose it.

*places Jack-o-lantern at his desk* I know you don’t celebrate Halloween, but I just want to give this to you as a gift. I even got you the plastic kind :]

[+ hot chocolate with marshmallows and candy that got deleted from inbox somehow]

[keenvictory]

Hello Lovely~ : ̗̀➛ 

Synopsis: Little things you did, half asleep in the middle of the night, that they can’t quite forget. 

: ̗̀➛ Featured Characters: Nightowl, Quest, Xyx, NakedToaster x Gn!Reader

 ̗̀➛ Content Warnings: No warnings needed.

̗̀➛  Additionally notes: Happy birthday to the sweetest puppy this side of e-dating, I’ll give him a dedicated post soon, but please enjoy this offering until then. 

Yours Faithfully, V.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Nightowl  * ˚ ✦

Nightowl talks to no end about catching you on the brink of sleep, all smiles and sweet talk. It’s one of his favorite moments, and he’s told the tale a hundred times to anyone who will listen, and will gladly shout it over the words of those who won’t. Your schedule often claimed you to sleep long before him, the soft pile of blankets and stuffed toys calling to your tired, overworked body. True to his name, Nightowl will contently work late into the night, turning in long after you retire to bed. But he always makes a point to join you in bed for a few minutes every night as you drift to sleep, holding you close, and whispering silly sweet nothings in your ear. He’ll drop whatever he’s doing to be the last thing you see before you fall asleep, only to slowly pry himself from your embrace once he’s certain you’re fast asleep and return to whatever activity was previously occupying him. It became routine, somewhere down the line, to drift off to his gentle, silly whispers. However, one night, as plain as any other, half-asleep you decided, brave and stubborn as anything, that you’d had enough of his sweet talk. Taking his face into your tired hands, caressing the curve of his jaw with your thumb, voice a hushed whisper as you echoed all those ridiculous whispers he filled your head with each night. Initially, he laughed, a quiet, hushed thing, mindful not to interrupt your sleepy speech, lest you get too flustered and stop. But slowly his laughter stopped, turning into a soft, if slightly stunned, smile. Your whispers had spiraled from sweet nothings to genuine, hushed compliments, a list of all your favorite traits and qualities. How much you loved his messy hair, his stupid smile, how much you adored the way his jokes left you breathless, how smart he was, how wonderfully, adorably stubborn. Voice becoming breathier as the lure of sleep became great, the last whisper he heard before you slipped into dreams was how much you not only loved, but admired him. No part of him went unloved, in your tirade. That night, Nightowl abandoned all plans to return to work until sunrise, wrapping his arms tight around you and tucking your head under his chin. He sniffled, pinprick tears in his eyes as he grinned from ear to ear. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Cutie.”

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Quest  * ˚ ✦

Quest actively tries to forget this memory. He feels dreadful for taking such comfort in it, the recollection somehow both sparking his self-loathing and soothing his rapid insecurities. He takes great care to keep it wholly to himself, a secret thing for him to treasure on those long, lonely nights when you’re not in his arms. You’d woken from a nightmare, the details of which the both of you have long forgotten, shaken and scared you turned to your partner, gently poking him awake, his name a quiet prayer on your lips. His heart had leapt into his throat at the sight of you, mind racing with possibilities, the ever so slight shake to your outstretched hands, your wide, startled eyes. He sat up instantly, rubbing his blurry eyes to quickly banish all remnants of sleep from his mind. 

“Angel, what’s wrong?” Without another word you buried yourself in his chest, the silent shake to your heavy breaths only worrying him further. One arm wrapped firmly around you, he ran his hand through you hair, gently rocking you as you cry out the remnants of your fear. 

“A nightmare,” You manage to choke out after a few minutes, “I’m sorry for waking you I Just.. I needed..” The shake to your breathing returns and Quest presses a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“There is nothing to apologize for, Angel. I’m glad you woke me up... Do you.. want to talk about it?” A gentle shake of your head is all he needs to resume gently stroking your hair, mind already whirring to come up with suitable distractions. But then you continue, and your words wipe all sensible trains of thought from his mind. “No.. No I just.. I wanted to be near you. You make me feel safe.”

The words short-circuit his brain, his hand going still in your hair, his breath catches pathetically in his throat. He immediately chides himself, he is the one supposed to be taking care of you, and yet all he can think about is your quiet words. He made you feel safe. Every part of him that he hated, that he feared day and night would make you afraid of him, made you feel... safe. Protected. Like simply being in his arms would be enough to chase off all the bad dreams beckoning you from your pillow. A small noise of concern from you is all he needs to draw him out of his stupor, his hold on you tightening as he pressed his nose into your hair, shutting his eyes tight. 

“Of course, Angel. I love you.. I’ve got you..”

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ xyx  * ˚ ✦

Xyx remembers this particular night very fondly. If you’re ever discussing dreams, or just reminiscing on the past he delights in bringing it up to tease and fluster you. It was early morning when it happened, he’d woken up a bit before you, content to cuddle cat and bask in your quiet breaths before he had to get ready to start his day. He’d practically trained himself at this point, to wake up a few minutes before his alarm went off, to spend a little extra time beside you each morning. He’d never told you he did such a thing, a well-kept secret between him and Cat that gave him a few, vital moments to just hold you. No expectations, no rush, just his arms loosely wrapped around you, and your cute little snores. But just as he was getting into the swing of his usual routine, his attention was stolen by the surprised tilt of Cat’s head. You had suddenly sat up, eyes misty and confused, xyx would almost say you were still dreaming, if not for the way you quickly planted your hands on his face, cupping his cheeks with startling urgency. Concern painted your features, but he couldn’t even get his words of concern out before you started rambling.

“Xyx we cant have cat as the flower girl, what if they eat the petals on the aisle! They’ll get sick and we’ll have to call the whole thing off to make sure they’re okay. But I’ve got a plan, we stage a whole thing with cat as the priest! Get them a little bow tie, sit them on an alter or something, they might get bored and wander off but I’m sure we can bribe them with some salmon and-“

He couldn’t help himself, laughter erupting from deep within his chest, his grin only growing at the delightful flush of your cheeks. The slow realization in your eyes as true consciousness kicked back in, burying your face in your hands as he leaned towards you, eyes bright with mischief. 

“Thinking about our wedding already, doll? I haven’t even proposed yet, getting a bit ahead of yourself there.”

Still terribly sleepy, defeat claimed you quickly, slumping against his shoulder with a slight whine, as you scratched behind Cat’s ear. “I daydream enough about it as is, I don’t need it creeping into my dreams to fluster me there either.”

“No, no please, tell me in great, great detail all about the wedding you had planned for us. Cat as the priest, hm?”

“Well of course, you know I’d want my two favorite people at the alter with me.”

“Awww, I’m your favorites'?”

“Second favorite, but sure.”

He laughed, tucking his face into your neck to gently nip at the skin. “You little troll..”

He was all too aware of the engagement ring burning a hole in his bedside draw, but with the way you were cooing down at cat, sleepily whispering about all the wedding plans you’d smuggle them in to, proposing didn’t seem nearly so daunting a task.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ NakedToaster  * ˚ ✦

NakedToaster tries not to make a habit of crawling into your shared bed hours after you’ve fallen asleep, but sometimes your schedules simply do not wish to align. Whether he’s up late on a grueling raid, listening to xyx’s teases through his headset, or you’ve simply fallen asleep early, exhausted from a long day at work, they always feel a slight pang of guilt crawling into bed beside you. What if they wake you? Did you mind falling asleep without them? It’s the little things that nag at him, late at night like that. One long, sleepy night, up far past his bedtime after a long, but satisfying raid, they attempted to crawl into bed beside you, wincing at every slight creak and moan of the mattress. He didn’t want to rouse you from your sleep, especially not when your job ran you so ragged, you needed all the rest you could get. Even if, and you couldn’t pry this information out of them in any sound state of mind, he found they missed you terribly while you dozed. He stilled as you stirred, sleeping face scrunching up in frustration so adorably, as you began to pat across the bed with your hand, restlessly searching for something just out of reach. Your face broke out into smiles as you found his hand, lazily interlocking your fingers together. He stared at you, face red, you hadn’t even woken from your sleep, still pleasantly dreaming, and yet… you had sought him out. Searched for their hand, for their presence. The blush on their cheeks was frantic, and suddenly, the last thing they wanted to do was sleep. But, so resilient as they were to let you sleep, he settled down beside you, partially hiding his face in his pillow, but unable to completely take his eyes off you. Did you always do this? Search for his hand in the middle of the night? Toasty’s mind was just racing with questions. But then you turned over, pulling your interlocked hands close to your chest, fingers ghosting over your heartbeat, and suddenly it was all Toasty could do not to lose it then and there. Sleep would be a tactical retreat from this blissful torment. 

“..Nh...Nighty Night, sweetheart.”

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Chaconne: Part 9 (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader)

Summary: With the first concert of the season approaching, you continue working as the personal assistant of Maestra Agatha Harkness, while attempting to juggle your relationship and future in the process.

Word Count: 5K Words

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QCfDtxcFoyM

A/N: Hello everyone! Welcome to Part 9 of Chaconne. One quick thing...I have decided to extend this story by just a few parts, I really don’t want to rush through the ending and there are a few more things I want to write haha. Anyways, I included a link to the first movement of Dvorak Symphony No. 9, and it’s briefly mentioned throughout the story so if you feel inclined feel free to listen. I really hope all of you are still enjoying the story, and that you enjoy Part 9! As always, please feel free to leave a comment and my asks/messages are open if you have any questions :)

Tag List: @annie-mit-ie​  @celasteria​  @danvers97​  @imthedoctorlove​  @mcfriggingonagall​  @meowsaidmissy​ @notsosecretlyalesbian​ @sarahp-stan​ @scarletwxtxh​ @scarletmeltstheice​ @shinkomiii​ @sxfwap​ @thestrangeundoing​ @teenwonder​ @upsidedowndanvers​  @venticalooks​  @vintagegoddess12​  @everythingmarvelsherlockspn​  @thoroughly--confused​

You weren’t sure how long you were frozen on stage, completely lost in your thoughts before the sound of Agatha’s heels came clicking from backstage. Just as you managed to clear your head of Wanda’s offer, the alluring scent of lavender invaded your senses. Even from a few feet away you could hear the conductor mumbling to herself about god knows what. As soon as she spotted you, however, the ramblings immediately stopped.

“Ah, there you are,” Agatha said, offering you a rare but genuine smile as she set her belongings down on the podium. “I see you set the stage.”

Nodding you motioned across the hall. “It didn’t take too long but I gave the winds extra room like you requested.”

The conductor nodded before curiously eyeing you. “Are you alright, dear? You seem distracted.”

Well you could tell her that her least favorite concert pianist had just suggested you move to Vienna. Or how Wanda was apparently aware that there was something going on between the two of you. A part of you did think it would be important to inform Agatha of that, but you also didn’t want to make the situation any worse than it already was.

You quickly nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

Agatha’s eyes searched yours for a moment before nodding and turning her attention to her Dvorak score. A few minutes later, various MSO musicians arrived and began unpacking on and off stage. You eventually headed out to sit in one of the front rows, and you realized you never told Monica that she would be getting a new stand partner.

Luckily it didn’t take long for the violinist to enter the hall, followed closely by Jimmy and Darcy. Her face lit up when she saw you, and went to set her violin down in the row you were sitting in.

“Hey Y/N,” Monica greeted you brightly, before frowning when she noticed something was amiss. “Where’s your violin?”

“I...I’m not playing with the MSO anymore,” you explained quietly, watching Agatha berate the second chair oboist on stage for the way she tuned. “Hayward had blind auditions to fill the chair and I didn’t get it.”

“That’s whack,” Darcy immediately replied, causing Jimmy and Monica to glare at her. “What? It is.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Monica said sincerely. “You’re really talented, I hope you know that.”

“Yeah and it’s only one audition,”  Jimmy pointed out. “Hayward’s always been a bit hard headed when it comes to filling seats, especially if it’s someone he picked.”

“It’s okay,” you insisted. “And Monica you’ll be getting a new stand partner so I’m sure he’ll be really good.”

“Which one is he?” Darcy asked curiously as she scanned the hall.

You discreetly glanced around the room before you found him. He was already heading on stage, violin in hand. You hadn’t really paid him much mind before the audition, but now you seemed to notice every detail about him. The sure way he presented himself as he practically strutted up the stage. His rigid posture as he sat in his seat, as if that was a comfortable way to sit.

You motioned your head to the stage and Darcy let out a quiet snort. “Oh good. John Walker.”

Monica rolled her eyes at her friend. “You know this guy?”

“Of course I do,” Darcy replied. “I know everyone.”

“What’s his deal?” Jimmy asked curiously. “He seems a bit...”

“Like he has a stick up his ass?” Darcy guessed, and Jimmy laughed.

“I was going to say uptight, but sure.”

“Walker fancies himself to be a bit of a prodigy,” Darcy explained and shook her head. “He’s good, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not amazing. I played a few gigs with him last summer in the Hamptons and I dreaded every moment spent in his company.”

“I’m sure he’s not that bad,” Monica argued before giving you a sympathetic glance. “Sorry, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to apologize, I agree with you,” you reassured the violinist. “I’m going to go see if Ag- Maestra needs anything before rehearsal so I’ll see you guys later?”

Agatha was leaning against the podium, drinking her water when she saw you approach her. The conductor appeared exhausted again, and you made a mental note to make sure she went straight home after rehearsal.

“Is there anything you need me to do?”

Agatha handed you her spare Dvorak score. “I’ll need you to tell me how the sound projects through the hall. We’ll be running the first movement today and I need to make sure the opening cello theme is clear enough.”

“Right, and if something isn’t clear what do you want me to do?”

“Well you could always throw something at Dottie,” Agatha suggested. “That would certainly get my attention.”

“Very funny,” you deadpanned. “I’m being serious.”

“As was I, dear. Dottie needs to look up from her music more. Perhaps that would encourage her to do so,” Agatha replied nonchalantly before sighing at the look you gave her. “Fine. I’ll ask you at the end of the movement what your notes are.”

“You mean my notes on sound projection, right?”

Agatha shrugged. “Or any suggestions you have on how to improve different sections. I...” the conductor paused and glanced around the hall to make sure no one else was listening in. “I do value your opinion.”

Your felt your heart sing at those words, and it took everything in you to not grab the older woman and kiss her senseless. Instead you gave her a bright smile. “Well I suppose I can try really hard to come up with a few meaningful suggestions.”

Rolling her eyes at your words, Agatha shook her head. “Try not to make me regret my decision, dear. Take a seat a few rows back, I’ll be starting rehearsal soon.”

Sure enough, just as you took your seat Agatha had the orchestra tuning before instructing them to start at the beginning of the first movement of the Dvorak. You loved every movement of Dvorak Symphony No. 9, and while you adored the fourth movement, there was something quite special about the first. There was this beautiful building intensity that started in the strings before slowly rising to include the entire ensemble. It was passionate, colorful, and left you eager for more.

As much as you loved performing, and you did more than anything, you found yourself enjoying getting to observe the rehearsal from your seat in the audience. It allowed you to focus on so much more than when you would be sitting in the first violin section. Before you never saw how Jimmy appears to have his entire part memorized since he usually has his eyes locked on Agatha the entire time. Or how talented Darcy was. You knew she had to be a good percussionist to be subbing for the MSO, but she performed with so much energy you found it hard to tear your eyes away from her.

Then there was Agatha. The conductor appeared lost in the music as she mindlessly conducted, but you swore you never saw anything more beautiful. Every single time you had the privilege of watching her conduct you swore she kept finding new ways to draw you in. How someone could make the simple movements with a baton and her hand so enticing. She had so much energy in her while conducting, and the love she had for the music was so clear in her eyes. What was even more fascinating to you was how easily the rest of the orchestra seemed to follow her. All of her cues were perfect, and she never missed a downbeat. She was by far the best conductor you had ever seen and you would never tire of getting to see this side of her.

The movement progressed and you turned your attention to the first violin section. Monica was was entirely in her element, and you immediately felt a slight pang at not being next to her on stage. You had a few stand partners who had been lovely over the years but Monica was better than all of them combined. She was so precise in her playing, and her technique was absolutely flawless. But what made Monica so unique was how genuinely kind she was. A lot of violinists were so focused on their craft it didn’t matter who they stepped on to get their way, but it was clear Monica didn’t play by those rules.

As you felt your eyes wander, they landed on the new violinist. John Walker. He was...good. The egomaniac violinist inside of you wanted to argue that you were better, but you shoved those comments away. For one thing he used far too much bow on his tremolos, and you were worried he was going to send his bow flying across the stage with the way he was holding it. Then there was his posture, he sat so rigid in his seat. After a few moments, you realized you were sounding more and more like Agatha.

Tearing your eyes away from the first violin section, you wrote down a few notes on sound quality throughout the movement and forced yourself to stay focused. The movement progressed and you couldn’t help but note how good the orchestra was sounding. Granted Agatha ran them hard, but it was clearly paying off. They were good before, but they were finally playing with more of a purpose. Unfortunately, you didn’t think Agatha felt the same was. As soon as the final chord rang out, the conductor whipped her baton on her stand, and you could tell she was angry.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Agatha spat out as she flipped through her score. “That was the saddest attempt of Dvorak I have ever heard in all my years of conducting. I’ve worked with youth symphonies who sounded better than all of you combined.”

Personally you felt Agatha was exaggerating a tad, but you watched her continue to rant.

“Woo, your projection is eons better than before but I still need more,” Agatha called out to the winds section, and you saw Jimmy shoot up in his seat as the conductor called his name. From the percussion section, Darcy also appeared to notice Jimmy’s change in posture and she glanced over and shook her head at you.

“If the rest of you could play as well as Woo I doubt we would be having this conversation but alas,” Agatha sighed, before tapping her baton on the stand. “Flutes, I’m starting to wonder if all of you are deaf or just enjoy the sound of my voice berating you, because what the hell was that? Jones, all of your solos are splitting my brain open. Either work on your intonation and have it fixed by tomorrow morning or I’ll be moving you to second chair.”

Dottie slouched in her seat and you bit your lip. Agatha had lost her temper before during rehearsal but this was slowly starting to get worse.

“I don’t have to time to rerun all of this because we have the idi-Miss Maximoff joining us shortly, but please turn your attention to measure seventy-five,” Agatha instructed the ensemble, before turning her attention to the first violins. “First violins, I need this melody to be sweet and light as we begin, don’t give me too much too soon.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the new violinist raise his bow to ask a question. Oh good. That would definitely end well...Agatha continued rambling on about vibrato and tone, seemingly unaware of the violinist and a part of you hoped perhaps he would simply move on and ask the question later. But it appeared he was the persistent type as he cleared his throat to get the conductor’s attention. Although you were positive Agatha heard him, you were a few rows back and the sound was clear as day, she continued her rant, ignoring him completely. At this point the rest of the orchestra seemed aware of what was going on and everyone seemed to be waiting for Agatha to acknowledge him.

“Maestra? I had a question,” The violinist’s voice boomed through the hall, and you internally winced as you watched Agatha whip her head to look at him.

“Ah yes, our new addition,” Agatha said briefly, as she eyed the violinist. “John Walker, is it?”

He nodded. “I hate to interrupt Maestra-“

Agatha cut him off, appearing to grow more uninterested with every word that came out of his mouth. “Yet you still proceed to act like a privileged toddler to get my attention, so please, Walker, what is it?”

“I merely wanted to suggest a different approach to measure seventy-five,” John explained and he had far too much cockiness for your liking. “I know you feel it’s best to take a softer approach, I was always told to start with a bigger sound then slowly decrescendo. It’s just a suggestion.”

There was another pause as Agatha stared at the violinist with a calculating and cold stare. A part of you wondered if this would be the day she finally snapped and whipped her baton at someone. You had heard rumors of a betting pool the interns had on when Agatha would inevitably strangle someone for making her too angry. You had thought they were being a bit drastic at the time, but seeing the way she was looking at Walker was making you reconsider that.

“Thank you for sharing your very generous suggestions with us, Mr. Walker,” Agatha replied, and there was emphasis on the word suggestions. “I’m not sure if you are aware of where you are, but this is my orchestra.”

John frowned at that, and once again unwisely opened his mouth. “Maestra, I wasn’t attempting to overstep. I just thought I would offer my opinion on how to make the section stronger.”

“Ah yes, my mistake. I must have forgot when I asked for your opinion,” Agatha retorted. her temper appearing to grow more and more heated. “Would you like to offer any other suggestions, Walker? I’m positive the entire orchestra is simply dying to hear your words of wisdom.”

This time John remained silent, but you saw how darker his appearance grew at being called out in front of the entire orchestra. Agatha appeared satisfied by that and she tapped her baton against the stand again. “Lovely to see the newbie catching on. Measure seventy-five.”

The rehearsal of Dvorak continued to drag, and you marked a few notes for suggestions like Agatha had asked you to. You would occasionally check the clock, wondering when Wanda would be arriving since the orchestra was set to rehearse Rachmaninoff at 8:30 sharp. Eventually the doors to the hall opened, but instead of Wanda entering the room it was one of the interns Agatha hadn’t managed to scare away during her early reign of terror. The intern appeared nervous about something, who knows what, and they quickly sought you out.

“Y/N, you have to tell Maestra Harkness that Miss Maximoff won’t be attending rehearsal this evening,” the intern told you, and it looked like they were going to pass out from the fear of having to tell Agatha.

“Wanda’s not coming to rehearsal?” You asked curiously.

The intern quickly nodded. “She’s sick.”

Sick? You had just seen the pianist a couple hours ago and she appeared fine, but maybe she just came down with something. Giving the intern a small smile, you stood up. “I’ll tell Maestra, don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” the intern said sincerely. “I’m pretty sure if I tell her she’ll find a way to fire me.”

The intern hurried back out of the hall and you slowly made your way to the front of the stage, hoping Agatha would call for the orchestra to take a break so you could make your move. With there only being a few rehearsals left until opening night you knew the absence of a soloist would send the conductor over the edge. But hopefully her strong dislike of Wanda would lighten the blow. As if the two of you were telepathically connected, Agatha turned around as you approached the stage and signaled for the orchestra to stop.

“Let’s take ten,” Agatha instructed them. “Have Rachmaninoff ready by the time we come back.”

The musicians all but hurried off the stage, and said hello to the few you had gotten to know over the past few weeks. Darcy caught your eye as she walked down the stairs and motioned her head to where John Walker was standing by his case, rolling her eyes in the process. You swallowed the laughter that threatened to escape as you went to join Agatha on stage. It didn’t take the older woman long to realize something was wrong.

“If you’re going to say I was being too hard on Walker, don’t,” Agatha quietly warned you, and it was apparent she was still fuming.

“I need you to promise me that you’re not going to throw a temper tantrum after I tell you this,” you said, and your tone was light, but Agatha gave you a look.

“I do not throw temper tantrums,” the conductor hissed as you motioned for her to follow you backstage.

“Of course not, Maestra. Your outbursts are completely normal for a woman of your-“ you quickly paused as Agatha arched an eyebrow at you, clearly unamused.

“My what, darling?” Agatha questioned, giving you an unconvincing glare as you laughed.

“Your stature,” you corrected yourself.

“You’re on thin ice,” the conductor warned you. “I’m not sure I like how easily you tease me.”

“Coming from the woman who’s done nothing but tease me since we met I think it’s only fair,” you offered, and Agatha smirked. “But really, please don’t freak out.”

“If you don’t tell me what’s wrong I’ll have no choice but to tie you up and force the words out of you myself,” Agatha mused, causing you to blush, which made her smirk grow wider. “Ah, do you like the sound of that, darling?”

“The rest of the orchestra is only a few feet away,” you warned her as she took a step closer to you. “If our relationship is supposed to stay private wouldn’t it be a bit unwise to...”

“Oh no, dear, don’t stop using your words now,” Agatha practically purred, she closed the distance between you, lightly shoving you against the wall. “We’re just getting started.”

“Agatha, I really think maybe we should do this somewhere-“ you began to say, and you truly had every intention of trying to be the rational one here, but any remaining brain function you had left was erased as Agatha’s lips began trailing up your neck, occasionally stoping to nip at skin. “Agatha...”

“Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?” Agatha whispered against your ear, the warm air of her breath sending tingles down your spine. “Or do I need to encourage you a bit more?”

“I don’t know how you doing this is supposed to encourage me to talk,” you argued, and bit back a moan as the conductor bit down on your earlobe.

“I’m just trying to help, darling,” Agatha insisted, pulling you impossibly closer to her as you were pressed against the wall. “I can help even more if you would like.”

“Wanda’s not coming to rehearsal,” you finally managed to let out with a gasp, and Agatha paused her movements at that.

“Darling, I know I’m a bit distracted but I believe you just said the Sokovian dingbat won’t be at rehearsal,” Agatha said slowly, as if she was trying to wrap her brain around what you just said.

Unwrapping yourself from the conductor, you nodded, trying to gauge her reaction. “She’s sick so she won’t be in attendance today.”

Agatha scoffed, shaking her head at your words. “Wanda Maximoff doesn’t get sick and miss rehearsal. I was-I worked with her long enough to know that.”

“Well that’s what personnel told me, so I’m not sure what to tell you,” you said, and you found yourself stuck on what Agatha had almost said. What wasn’t she telling you?

The conductor took a moment to pull her phone out of her pocket and her frown deepened even more. “Oh for the love of...” Agatha trailed off before whipping her phone against the wall, shattering it in the process.

You jumped at the sound, but Agatha barely seemed to notice you as she was entirely too lost in her thoughts. “Agatha, what’s wrong?”

“Cancel the rest of rehearsal,” Agatha said dismissively as she straightened her sweater. “Those idiots are infuriating me far too much and without Wanda we won’t make any progress on the Rachmaninoff.”

Gaping at her, you took a moment to process what she said. “You’ve never cancelled rehearsal before. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Now, Y/N. I have something I need to do,” Agatha said before storming out of the room, leaving you alone.

To say the MSO musicians were relieved Agatha had cancelled the remaining two hours of rehearsal would have been a vast understatement. You swore you never saw half of them move so quickly when you gave them the okay to leave. Since Agatha had apparently left for the day, you took the liberty of grabbing her belongings and dropped them off in her office on your way out. It wasn’t out of character for Agatha to lose her temper, you had grown used to her yelling and ranting. But her outburst backstage was unlike anything you had ever seen before. There was something the conductor wasn’t telling you, and while you had no idea what it was there was a sinking feeling in your chest that it had something to do with Wanda. Regardless of how curious, and anxious, you were over Agatha’s abrupt exit, you knew there was no good in worrying. She would tell you what was wrong...right?

It had been two days since you heard from Agatha. You received a call from management personnel early Saturday morning informing you that the conductor had cancelled all weekend rehearsals due to a stomach bug, which made you immediately go to call her until you remembered she left her shattered phone backstage. It wasn’t unusual for you to go a day without hearing from Agatha, the conductor valued her privacy and you respected her enough to give her what she needed. But after the practical smothering you had received from the older woman since the blind audition, it left you with a gut feeling that you had done something wrong.

What were the odds that Agatha was sick mere hours after storming out of rehearsal? They were slim, and it didn’t take a genius to tell you that. You had told Sam and Bucky what happened, and while they thought it was suspicious they also agreed that giving Agatha space would be the smartest move. Rationally speaking you knew that everything was fine, it just would have been nice to have received confirmation from the woman you were worrying so much about.

It had been a long time since you last had a Saturday off, so you spent your weekend watching Disney movies and napping while trying your best to keep your mind off Agatha. In fact you had been so distracted with the radio silence from the conductor that you almost forgot about Natasha Romanov and Vienna. The keyword being almost. You knew you needed to make a decision on if you were going to meet with the violinist, and you needed to make one soon. There was no guarantee Natasha would even choose you for her group, but still you found yourself imagining a world where you were performing in Vienna and finally getting to live your dreams. Only those dreams seemed somewhat bittersweet at the prospect of having them without Agatha. It was cliche being this attached this soon, but you couldn’t help it. You had never felt this strongly for anyone you dated before, there was something so different about Agatha that kept drawing you in.

Would it be fair to her if you moved to another continent when you were just starting your relationship? You knew she was concerned you would leave the Symphony after not getting the chair placement. While she had never directly told you, it was what made the most sense when considering her recent behavior. You didn’t want to leave her, you really didn’t. Agatha had given you so much while asking for nothing in return.

But the voice in your head asked if it was fair for you to stay somewhere you wouldn’t be happy. Would you grow to resent your job, or Agatha by association by remaining on as her assistant? Sam had been right when he said there were other jobs in New York City, but you knew nothing here would compare to the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra. While quitting would allow the two of you to date publicly, maybe, it would also ruin any chance you still had of hoping to join the MSO. Was that something you were willing to sacrifice? You had a lot you needed to consider, you just wished Agatha was there to help you.

Monday morning came far too quickly for your liking. You were anxious to see Agatha, to make sure she was okay, but you also had to make up your mind on whether to meet with Natasha Romanov. Wanda had sent you a polite, but short, email late Sunday night asking if you made a decision or not. You were still just as torn as you had been all weekend, and sadly this was a decision only you could make for yourself. As you exited the coffee shop, you were slightly surprised to see Agatha’s car waiting for you. The rear window was rolled down and Agatha had her gaze fixated on yours. Giving her a small smile, you approached the car while balancing both coffees.

“Good morning Maestra. Fancy seeing you here.”

Agatha rolled her eyes before helping open the door. “Yes yes, good morning dear. Please hurry up and get in before I have Hank leave without you.”

“You’re in a mood today,” you said lightly after making yourself comfortable in the vehicle. “Rough weekend?”

Agatha grimaced at your choice of words before shrugging. “Oh it was fine. A lot better since I didn’t have to hear those morons butcher Dvorak on Saturday.”

You gave her a look as you motioned to your coffee. “Oh right, your stomach bug? Maybe this won’t sit well then, should I give it to Hank?”

The conductor all but snatched the coffee out of your hands, glaring at you. “Funny, as always darling. I’m feeling much better now.”

So she was sticking with the sick story. As much as you wanted to press and find out why she stormed out of rehearsal so suddenly, you thought it best to not start a possible argument this early in the morning. Besides, Agatha wouldn’t lie to you, right?

You decided to take the safe approach. “Well I should probably keep my distance in case you’re still contagious. Wouldn’t want to catch anything.”

“If that’s what you think best, dear,” Agatha replied. “I would hate to get you sick.”

That’s how things remained the rest of the day. Agatha was clearly not over whatever upset her on Friday, and it appeared she wasn’t willing to share her troubles with you. So you did what you did best, and ignored the persistent voice begging you to talk to her. You busied yourself with various tasks both in and out of the conductor’s office. Opening night was in two weeks and there was much to do still. Even though Agatha had promised to be nicer to the interns, it appeared her generosity had run out as you began counting the number of crying individuals sent running from her office since lunch. Her mood was only growing more and more unstable as the hours passed, and even you found being in her company to be slightly unbearable. Agatha was clearly stressed, and you understood she was under a lot of pressure, you just wish she thought of healthier outlets to relieve it.

Towards the end of the day you received yet another polite, yet persistent email from Wanda and you knew the time had come. On one hand you wanted to ask Agatha’s opinion on the potential job, for you valued her opinion over anyone else’s. But the fear of a fight, especially over something involving Wanda, was enough to make you realize now was not the right time to bring up a potential move to Vienna. Plus you were only meeting with Natasha, it wasn’t like she was going to offer you a job on sight. There would be little to no harm in setting up a meeting. Then you could talk to Agatha.

Satisfied with your decision, you sent a quick reply to Wanda stating you would be interested in meeting with Natasha before heading back to Agatha’s office. Hopefully the conductor had enough time to cool down to consider leaving work within the next few hours. However, when you opened the door you were surprised to find her hunched over her desk, eyes locked on her laptop. She didn’t appear to hear you enter, and a part of you wondered if you should leave and come back later. Ultimately deciding that you would stay, you lightly knocked on the door to attempt to draw her attention away from the screen. It worked, only when she finally looked at you, you saw something unfamiliar in her eyes. Fear.

“Y/N...” Agatha trailed off, and you could practically see the frown lines become embedded in her skin.

“Agatha?” You barely recognized the sound of your own voice as you approached the conductor. “What’s wrong?”

Before the conductor could reply, your phone began to repeatedly ding. Pulling it out of your pocket you felt your heart sink at the notification. You had several texts from Sam, Bucky, Monica, even Darcy, but what caught your eye was an article from The New York Times.

‘Agatha All Along? An Inside Scoop to the Alleged Affair Between MSO Conductor Agatha Harkness and Concert Pianist Wanda Maximoff’

[the-black-birb]

Bet? [Miya Atsumu x Reader]

Summary: Miya Atsumu never losses a bet. Or: At first he was in it for the sex until he found himself honestly falling for you.

Warnings: smut, virginity loss, plenty of plot to go along with it

A/N: since this is my first nsfw piece, I’m writing about times. Haha. Get it? Anyways. Here we go!

Miya Atsumu, with his suave smile and screaming fangirls, was the last person you’d think to be a college virgin. 

His ego was large enough to make up for any of his other shortcomings, boasting the pride of prepping to be a professional athlete as well as a full-time college student. No one doubted that he’d snogged countless fans or taken especially eager girls to back closets for fun, but what seemed to have slipped past them was his dedication to volleyball, always.

So dedicated, he didn’t even have the time for a serious girlfriend.

Miya Atsumu, playboy of the year, was a virgin. But he’d raise all hell if he let anyone around him find out. So when his team went out for dinner after a particularly brutal victory, Atsumu was happy to get in on all the locker room talk. He was sure he could keep up this facade.

Yet somehow, it spiraled into a competition. Although Atsumu had never been one to be invited to sleepovers or highschool parties, far too busy practicing with his team, he imagined it felt something like this.

“So,” one of the wing spikers started. “How old were you all when you lost your virginity?” The men around him laughed it off, ready to tell stories of their (awkward) first times. Each took their turn, wanting to be the youngest or the one with the best tale to tale. And then, all eyes fell on Atsumu.

Atsumu was a great liar, really. But the bar was loud and he felt the eyes of his teammates like ants on his skin and while he was confident in volleyball there was little he knew about this and Atsumu could not bring himself to do anything but sit there and stare aimlessly. The team waited for an answer.

Finally, their starting setter, who had undoubtedly been chosen based on seniority alone, broke out into laughter. “He’s a virgin!” he realized. “Miya Atsumu is a virgin!” The whole table broke out into rancorous laughter. There wasn’t truly anything bad about being a college virgin, a few on the team had admitted to it before Atsumu. But his attitude of control and snarky attitude on the court had everyone waiting to find something just one thing they could tease Miya Atsumu about. 

“I could fuck anyone if I wanted to!” was his quick reply, thinking back to all the girls cheering his names in the stands (and the boys who’d give him a slap on the ass to say “good job”). Surely, he could give up his virginity in an instant, if he put his mind to it.

“Oh, yeah?” It was a middle blocker speaking now, one who Atsumu had the (dis)pleasure of sharing a few classes with. “Even that girl in calc...the one who does all the group projects on her own and everything…”

Atsumu knew immediately who he was talking about. Y/N L/N. You were basically a genius, always getting the highest marks and never taking a moment to wait for those around you to catch up. He’d never even spoken to you. But right now, his pride was on the line.

“Pfft,” he forced a chuckle. “Easy.”

The table erupted into booming laughter again, at Atsumu’s declaration, but quickly quieted down as the senior setter leaned forward with a wager. “Then have sex with her,” he smirks. “Before the next game.”

Atsumu raised an eyebrow. “What do I get out of it?” Aside from the loss of his v-card, of course.

“I’ll ask coach to make you the starting setter.” A hush fell on the table as if a ghost had passed through. “But if you lose, you join as a wing spiker.”

Atsumu gulped down his fears. He was never one to back down on a bet. Besides, the only reason he was a virgin still was because of volleyball. Might as well gain something from it.

He pushed his hand forward, shaking the senior setter’s firmly.

“Deal.”

***

“Could you tutor me?”

Miya Atsumu wasn’t stupid. He’d never been in a serious relationship, but he knew if he asked one of his fangirls to sneak off with him they’d do it in a heartbeat. He knew he could probably find at least one girl within a mile radius who wanted to have sex with him and flirt his way to her bed.

But you weren’t just any girl.

As much as he dreaded school, Atsumu was painfully observant of the people around him. He’d noticed you before, in class and occasionally at games. You kept to yourself without anyone to talk to you, but on the occasion, he’d seen you with friends you shined brighter than any of them. It made him breathless.

Still, he knew you wouldn’t be easy. In group projects, you’d always been devilish with your expectations, dishing out jobs to everyone in an instant and critiquing their work for the best results (this quality shamefully reminded Atsumu of himself, but he’d never mentioned it).

Frankly, he was at a loss of how to get to your bed. But he knew he needed to start by talking to you, and that you’d shut down any friendly flirtation he started with. So he did something more direct. He theorized even if you weren’t keen, you were kind enough not to shut him down completely and hopefully that’d be his chance to talk with you more. But what he hadn’t calculated was your response.

“Atsumu, right? What do you need help with?”

Huh?

You hadn’t even hesitated to agree, looking up at him expectantly.

“Uh...deriving complex functions?” He thinks that’s what they’re doing in class.

You place a hand to your chin, nodding as if you were deep in thought. “Yeah, that’s pretty tough,” you agree, thinking. “I’m free after six tonight, meet me at the library?” you ask him directly.

For once in his life, Miya Atsumu is frozen. “Uh, sure?”

“Cool, give me your number in case something comes up,” you said nonchalantly, grabbing your phone. Before he could even process what was happening, he’d put his number in your phone and you were walking away from him, bidding him a friendly “see you later.”

As he watched your figure get smaller, he was reminded of all the cold comments he’d heard about how difficult you were to approach and the nicknames people said behind your back. He stifled a laugh.

Atsumu wondered if they’d even spoke to you.

***

You here?

It was the first thing Atsumu had texted you once he got your number. He didn’t come to the library often, far more concerned with practice than studying, but as he sat to get out his work from earlier he realized it was actually quite calming. Compared to the loud and irritating bar from days earlier, Atsumu was certain he preferred this.

Sorry, was out with friends. Be there in a few!

He grumbled when he saw his phone. Maybe it couldn’t be helped, but you could’ve at least had the decency to text him earlier, right? Slowly Atsumu felt himself spiraling, his bad habit of finding the negative in just about everything sneaking up his back.

But all his qualms were forgotten when you walked through the doors.

He supposed he’d only ever seen you in class and at a few volleyball games. He quicked up quickly that you were a creature of comfort, preferring a pair of loose sweatpants to anything else. Yet you walked through the door fresh from a night out with friends with your hair done up and a pair of flattering slacks clinging to your waist (and a bit further south as well but Atsumu wasn’t ready to mention that, yet).

“Miya?” He was broken from his trance by your voice, which had a playful lilt to it he’d never quite noticed before.

“Just call me Atsumu,” he heard himself saying out of habit. Even without Osamu at his side in college, Atsumu was never really comfortable being called by his family name. It just wasn’t normal. Still, his cheeks flared up as he worried you’d see it as flirtations instead and be scared off.

“I-”

“Sure thing, Atsumu,” you agreed without hesitation. Oh. All of Atsumu’s nerves were on edge. Nothing to worry about, huh? He quite liked how his name sounded on your lips. He could listen to it on repeat for days, probably.

Snapping him out of his trance, you were quick to get to business. Although Atsumu came with ulterior motives, you were an incredible help. Your notes were neat and easy to understand, but whatever he stumbled on you still found ways to re-word so they’d make sense. He could practically feel all the wheels in his head turning when you spoke like he was in the middle of an intense volley trying to figure out what came next.

Actually, you made it kind of fun.

Before he realized, an hour had elapsed and he felt his eyelids drooping. It wasn’t often that Atsumu used his brain that intensely without break, and he could feel his focus starting to waver. But you’d made it so easy to focus, he’d easily lost track of time.

You let out a sigh next to him. “That’s enough for today,” you determined, shutting your notebook. “Seeing as we have a quiz next class, I can meet again to tutor the night before if you’d like? Just keep doing the practice I showed you and we can do some review.” You had everything planned out in your mind already.

Atsumu let his head hit the table in exhaustion. Although normally he’d have a snarky comment for anyone who dared tease him, he let your laughter ease over him like a blanket. It was music to his ears.

“Get better and it won’t be so tiring,” you assured him, patting his shoulder. Before he could agree or disagree with anything you’d asked him, you had one foot out the door. “See you Wednesday at six,” you bid him goodbye (though Atsumu swore it sounded more like an order).

He grumbled against the table once again, quick to back up his notebook. There was still practice, after all.

While Atsumu found himself more tired than usual at practice, having already used his mind plenty, it was enthralling. The quips of his teammates, asking if it was some hot banging that had tired him out, fell on deaf ears. He could only think about how you’d managed to make calculus of all things sound interesting and the smell of your perfume whenever you bent close to him. Sure, your expectations for him were evident but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He wondered how anyone could have called you ‘cold.’

***

Your next tutoring session went fairly standard. True to your word, you checked over the review and prepped for your exam the next day. While you harshly pointed out Atsumu’s repeated mistakes, you gave him insightful tips and tricks to help him fix them in the same breath. You were definitely a genius, he determined.

But he’d also realized he was getting nowhere with these tutoring sessions. Your company was surprisingly relaxing in the midst of his long days and he was delighted at the playful jokes you always managed to slip in, but there were no sparks and his next game was drawing nearer. The word wing spiker loomed over his head like a curse.

He had to do something to change this.

“Would you want to grab coffee with me?” he found himself asking as you packed your bag. For a moment you looked at him dumbfounded, trying to figure out if he was serious.

“Are you asking me on a date?” you tease, no fear of misunderstanding the situation. As usual, Atsumu was shaken to his core by your forwardness. He thought he was honest. But he was certain now was the time to back down.

“If I am, would you say yes?” he flirts back, praying you can’t see the sweat dripping down his neck. There was something electric and unnerving about your smile, seemingly unhindered.

“The Miya Atsumu…” you put on a face like you’re deep in thought, but you’re already sure of your answer. “Sure,” you grin. “Text me the details.” Before he even has the chance to celebrate, you’re gone.

The next day, Atsumu got his highest grade on a quiz since grade school (he wasn’t stupid, really, just very average with school). Even when he got stuck on questions, he’d visualize your mechanical pencil (you’d covered it in stickers) gliding across his page and the sound of your voice, explaining each problem patiently and easily. Then, he’d know what to do.

He texted you a thank you with a flurry of emojis, supremely grateful for your help. Soon, he’s pulling on his nicest pair of jeans for his casual date with you, brimming with energy. Atsumu was so excited he could just kiss you.

That is until he was sitting in front of you in the cafe, realizing he’d never talked to you about anything but calculus. And now that he had his breakthrough and secured a date, he was hopeless. He had no idea where to start. So, always quite shallow, he broke the ice by saying what was on his mind.

“Why’d you agree to tutor me?” For a moment, he wonders if you’ll get offended by the question before he’s reminded of all your rude comments about his mathematical prowess. He was certain you had tougher skin than that. “I mean, I sort of asked you out of the blue. Don’t you want money? Food?”

He expects you to take a while to answer since you seem like the person to have calculated reasons behind all your actions, but your answer is almost immediate.

“Is it not enough to just want company?” you wonder, completely unabashed. Atsumu almost blushes for you, before you think for a moment and find you stumbling over your words. It’s the first time he’s heard you sound unsure of yourself and he ingrains the moment of vulnerability into his mind like a movie he’ll play one day. He never wants to forget the sight of your lightly flushed cheeks, eyes scattering to break contact with him.

“W-What I mean is,” you interrupt yourself. “I hear people talk and I know my reputation. I get focused on work and people get scared away...” Atsumu knows that feeling. “I guess I was just over eager that someone would approach me. Is that weird?”

Ah. Atsumu thinks. This is my chance.

He bends forward, his hand brushing against yours, and greets you with a practiced smile. It’s the sort of smirk that is sneaky enough to have any girl squealing, but sincere enough not to scare you away. “Not at all, doll,” he promises, voice like honey.

Mentally, Atsumu congratulates himself for the smooth delivery, sure that he’ll have you in his arms in no time. Instead, you start laughing at him.

“Do not call me that!” you exclaim, tears bursting from the corners of your eyes. “What do you think this is, the 1950s? [Y/N] will do, yeah?” Your hands reach up to wipe your eyes and the entire atmosphere Atsumu worked to create is lost (although secretly, he prefers that honest and straightforward attitude you replace it with) and he’s left staring at you blankly.

“Why’d you ask in the first place?” you wonder, looking sufficiently amused.

Because I want to have sex with you.

Atsumu finds himself attacked by his own thoughts. It’s not that he wants to, of course. It’s just that he was dared to and he can’t lose the bet. But, wouldn’t it be more enjoyable if he wanted to? Of course, he could want to. But he thinks to get there he’d need to be terribly emotionally invested and he’s barely even had a girlfriend and you’re definitely too perfect for him and-

“Atsumu?” You’re smiling up at him, eyebrows raised. “Did I manage to leave you, who never shuts up,” He wants to tell you that you’re wrong but he knows you’re not and you won’t hesitate to remind him of that. “Speechless?”

He can’t let you catch on, Atsumu tells himself. “I’m bad at calculus and you’re good,” he decides is a good lie. Straightforward and true, just like you. “Is that not enough?” You huff, leaning back in your seat.

“Touche.”

Although your date had started off awkward and tense, Atsumu felt the relief of being entirely comfortable talking to you. He got lost in your quick wit and electric eyes, losing track of the conversation and letting himself get immersed entirely in you. Before he knew it, your phone was going off.

“Shit!” you rushed to turn it off. “I’ve got class in ten.” You were quick to grab your bag and head out, and Atsumu felt his stomach drop, wishing he’d said something. Yet just as quickly you were turning on your heal, an unfamiliar shakiness in your voice, as you bent down to plant on Atsumu’s cheek.

“Same time next week?” you asked, eyes sparkling.

Atsumu felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest as he smiled back at you. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

***

In the blink of an eye, you became a surprisingly regular part of Miya Atsumu’s daily life. He’d sit next to you in calculus and on days you didn’t have calculus he’ get coffee with you. Every day you were there next to him, smiling fearlessly. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to your untouchable reputation, but he’d never hesitated to be beside you.

For two weeks this had gone on, your strange friendship that sprung up out of nowhere raging strong. But Atsumu’s next game was soon and he felt the pressure. Yet he knew, no matter what, he didn’t want to ruin what he had going with you. Maybe, it was even worth being wing spiker for a season.

“Could I come to the match tomorrow?” you asked as you were getting ready to leave one day. Atsumu almost choked on his coffee, not prepared for such a bold question. He wanted to ask you who you were asking him as: a volleyball fan, a friend or… a partner?

He shooed the thought from his head. Although both of you called these coffee outings “dates,” they’d never ended with anything more than him walking you him and a kiss on the cheek outside the door to your apartment. You were far from dating.

“Sure, why not?” he responded, pretending to keep his cool. But would you like him less when you realized he was benched? Why did you even want to go?

“It’s raining,” you moaned, distracted from Atsumu’s response. He looked to your (lovely) legs to see you were wearing shorts and converse, definitely not ideal for this weather.

“I’ll drive you home,” he offered, keen on showing off his new car. He’d already sent you a photo of it, of course (a selfie, actually. He looked quite stunning) but he still wanted to show you in person. Soon, you were next to him in the passenger seat, looking at the road ahead.

You made normal small talk, but Atsumu noticed your hand seemed to be wondering closer to the area between you two. He ignored it.

When you reached your apartment, he walked you in like normal. He waved hello to the person at the security desk, they were familiar with him at this point. Finally, the two of you reached the doormat. It always felt to him like a save point in a game before a boss. He just couldn’t seem to get past it and into your apartment.

But when he noticed you wore a different lip gloss than usual and a new perfume, he thought maybe today could be the day. He swallowed, rolling his shoulders back. He’d make his move for sure. Breathing in, he readied his mind for what he’d say to you, wondering what kind of flirting could make you break.

“Kiss me.”

Huh.

“Atsumu,” you looked up at him, eyes demanding. “Kiss me.”

When he first started talking to you, occasionally you’d say something that caught him so off guard he’d freeze up and have no idea what to do. But kissing wasn’t sex, and Atsumu knew he could win in a battle of the lips. Before you could even fully open your door, he’d close the space between you two.

He didn’t take a moment to question why you asked him, instead silently praying you felt the same pull to him that he did to you. The kiss was desperate and long-awaited. As soon as he was in the apartment you were closing the door behind him and letting him press you up against him.

Desperately, Atsumu wanted to feel all of you. He gripped his hands around your waist and sucked at your lips, begging to be closer to you. It was intense and passionate and everything he’d ever dreamed of.

The two of you were a mess of sweat and pent up tension, but somehow you made it to your bedroom. Your hands searched over Atsumu, wanting to feel the expanse of his toned body and broad shoulders. You could feel him getting excited against you, edging him on by grind against him. More you called out. You wanted to feel more of him, all of him.

And then he froze.

You looked up to him, confused. “Are you okay, Atsumu?” you pulled away from him immediately, scared that you’d set something off. Instead, you reached out to grab his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. “We can stop if this is too fast,” you assured him. While you’d been getting impatient waiting for him to make a move, the last thing you wanted was for him to be uncomfortable with you.

“I’m fine,” he promised you, but his eyes said differently. His pupils were blown out and his eyes wide but he looked downright scared. You breathed out, not yet sure how to comfort him. Instead, you took in all the things you knew about him, coolly trying to wonder what could be bothering him.

“Is this going to lead to sex?” he asked you, sitting on your bed with his clothes riled up and his face looking very thoroughly kissed. You wanted to laugh, looking at his swollen red lips and the clueless expression on his face because the answer would be clear to anyone else, but Atsumu kept surprising you. Still, you knew better than to make fun of him. It was very clear he was trusting himself to you.

“If you want it to you,” you answer, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “But it doesn’t have to.”

There’s a nervousness in Atsumu’s eyes that you were unfamiliar with. It was different than the frustration that built up when he didn’t understand math, or the shyness he tried to hide whenever he’d flirt with you. It was the realization that if he wanted whatever was between the two of you to go anywhere, he had to come clean now.

“I asked you to tutor me because my seniors on the volleyball team dared me to have sex with you!” he burst, folding in on himself.

For a moment you thought you could feel your heartbreaking because you couldn’t believe you’d let yourself get tricked. But naively, you prayed that maybe his feelings still rang true, reminding yourself of all the coffee dates and late nights studying. That worth more than just a dare, you hoped.

“But I asked you on the coffee date because I like you! I sat next to you in calculus because I like you and I don’t care what people say about you!” Atsumu declared, face burning red.

You knew there was a lot that could get under Miya Atsumu’s skin. You’d been to a few practice volleyball games where he played and seen his short fuse first hand, but still, you found yourself surprised and relieved by his words. Atsumu was, if nothing else, straight forward. Even though he’d had different motives, you knew he still worked hard to get better at calculus. You knew how his face lit up whenever you walked into the cafe and the most common emojis he used when he texted. You had no doubt behind his words now.

“So,” you start teasingly, tracing circles around his shoulder. “Does that make you a virgin?” The way your voice dropped, eyes looking promisingly at Atsumu like he was about to be devoured, had him straining against his pants.

“Yeah,” he admitted, pupils blown out for a whole new reason.

You slid yourself over him, letting your self straddle his hips. Your fingers continued to trace his chest, appreciating all the time he spent training. Excruciatingly slowly, you bent forward to whisper against his ear. “Let’s change that tonight, yeah?”

That was enough for Atsumu.

For a virgin, he was surprisingly dominating while you made out. Atsumu brought his mouth to yours once again, quick to bite at your lips. His hands came up to knead your ass, large and strong. I’ve been waiting to do that, Atsumu thought, picturing your slacks from the first time you tutored him. He always did love to see you walk away.

Soon, he got bored with your lips and found himself peppering kissing across your jawline and traveling across your neck. As he got to the crook between your should and neck he heard your breath hitch. Perfect. 

Mercilessly, he nipped and sucked at the spot. As much as you tried to keep down your moans, you felt them bubbling up in your chest.

“You know…” you told him breathlessly. “For someone who’s never had sex you’re awfully good at this.”

Atsumu scoffed in response. “I’m a virgin, not a celibate,” he explained, before going after your neck again. You threw your head back in pleasure, giving him easier access. You wondered what else he could do with his mouth.

His pursuit of learning about your entire body continued, one hand leaving your ass to grope your breasts. He reached his hand up and under your shirt, sending shocks straight to your core as his calloused fingers brushed over your skin. Finally, palm landed on your breast, feeling it enthusiastically. You could hear him sigh as he did it, surely having played this moment over in his mind time after time.

You wanted to enjoy it, really, but there was only so much you could handle. “It’s not a balloon!” you laughed, swatting his hand away.

“Hey, I was busy with that,” Atsumu teased but brought his hand away regardless. He held onto your hips, instead, watching as you rid yourself of your shirt and bra. He watched you with a calculating eye, trying to learn more, to be better.

“Like this,” you told him, dragging his hand to your breast again. You had him pressing feather-light touches to you. “Gentle,” you whispered, letting yourself get lost in the sensation. He took your directions carefully, bringing both of his hands up to take in your chest. He was more careful now, experimenting. He ghosted his thumb over your nipple, watching how your body shivered in response.

Atsumu was completely in tune with your every reaction and quickly understood how sensitive you’d become from this slow grueling pace. All he’d done was play with your nipples, switching between light ghosts of touches and rougher swipes with the pads of his fingers, but he could already feel you grinding against him.

Unable to hold back, he finally broke his concentrated silence, letting a groan out into your shoulder.

“Right,” you noticed, looking down. “You probably want to take care of that?” As if teasing him, you rolled your hips against his bulge again. His grip around your waist tightened.

Atsumu started to protest. “But-”

“No buts!” you cut him off. “I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?” you promised, eyes unwavering.

This was even better than his dreams.

“Whatever you say, [Y/N],” he breathed out, letting you get up so your hands could work at his belt.

“Call me doll,” you muttered, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down. Although he was still in his boxers, you went to your own shorts first, pulling them down eagerly.

Atsumu twitched. “What is this,” he drawled. “The 1950s?” It felt good to have the upper hand for once.

“Throw me a bone here, you won’t even take your own clothes off,” you whined, pulling at his shirt. He helped you along the way, getting it over his head. Finally, you pulled his boxers off, letting his erection stand tall and proud for all to see.

You gulped at the sight of it. His length was average, but it was quite girthy with an intimidating tilt to it. How many fingers is that? You wondered.

“Impressive?” Atsumu asked when he noticed your wide eyes. The only people he’d ever really compared himself to were porn stars and his brother so truly he had no idea if he was packing, but he’d let you do the talking tomorrow.

But you were quick to wipe the wonderous expression of your face. “In your dreams,” you bit back, going to grab a condom.

“In your nightstand?” Atsumu said incredulously. You rolled your eyes.

“Where else?”

Touche.

You started to unpack the condom and roll it over his member, eager to get the show on the road, but Atsumu found himself grabbing your wrists. “What about you?” he asked. “I mean…” Atsumu was never one to admit to his shortcomings, but there was something pretty clear here. You had more experience than him. “Don’t you want to feel good, too?”

If your pace was too fast, you’d probably get left high and dry while Atsumu chased his orgasm. “Couldn’t I…” he gestured with his hands, pushing two fingers forward. “Help you out?”

You chuckled. “Love if you’ve never fingered a girl before I’m not becoming your test subject,” you quipped, Atsumu grumbling below you. What was the point if you didn’t both enjoy yourselves? “But…” you traced his jawline. “I can show you how I do it next time. Teach you how I like it?”

Atsumu smirked, pulling you down to the bed with him and rolling over you so he could linger over you. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, sweet and so unlike him. “Sounds perfect, doll,” he whispered against your lips.

You gulped. For someone so inexperienced, there was an intensity to his eyes that went unmatched by anyone else. Even when you had been the one guiding him along, you felt his eyes drinking all of you up. He was truly beautiful, leaning over you in all his glory. You could get used to that sight.

“Is…” he cleared his throat. “Is it okay if I put it in?” he asked, reminding you both that he was still unsure of himself.

“Yeah,” you assured, reaching up to grab his hand. “Take it slow.”

He did, Excruciatingly. You felt his tip enter you curiously, already stretching you out so well. Atsumu entered you in a way that you felt every single millimeter. You yearned for him to get closer, to fill you better.

“More,” you whined out.

Atsumu smirked at you, his face screaming I win. “What’s that, doll?” You groaned, rolling your head back. “You wanted me to take it slow?” he taunted.

“Fuck me like you mean it, Atsumu!” you snapped, pushing your hips up to meet his. You sighed at the feeling as he finally bottomed out. But Atsumu didn’t take your challenge lightly, not letting up. He pulled back out of you, only to snap his hips back. You had no time to get used to his size, not with the brutal pace he was setting.

Soon, you were a mess. While you were fairly sure Atsumu was simply his own release, he made you feel so damn good while doing it. His strong hips pushed back into you ruthlessly, hitting you deep and well. Your arms wrapped around his back, nails pressing into his shoulders.

“You like that, doll?” he asked through his own groans. He’d done his best to hold them back, but the feeling of you surrounding every single inch of him was simply too much. You felt too good.

“Yeah baby,” you urged him on. “You’re doing so well. You’re fucking me so well.” Your nails gripped into him, scratching at his back. But it only had him pushing harder into you, feeding into your praise. He was the one wrecking you like this.

Yet Atsumu lost track of his inhibitions and quickly found himself feeling a familiar coil in his stomach. He didn’t want this to end yet. He wanted to feel more of you, all of you. He let out a loud moan, trying to hold back.

“It’s alright,” you assured him. “There’ll be time to do more. Let go.” It angered him that you had the energy to soothe him while he was trying to fuck you silly, but that only encouraged him to push harder. Through your own moans, you found it in you to whisper to him. “Please, Atsumu. Cum for me.”

He couldn’t hold back anymore. His hands grabbed your hips, surely tight enough to leave bruises, and snapped forward, pushing all of himself into you. He came into the condom in hot streams, breathing heavily.

“I’ve never orgasmed like that,” he admitted, finally slipping out of you. You whimpered a bit at the feeling of being empty, before taking the semen-filled condom out of you.

“Ew,” the two of you said in unison, before laughing at one another.

Even though you’d just been thoroughly fucked and he felt like he’d ran a marathon, Atsumu bathed in the feeling of complete trust he had when he was beside you. It was incredible.

“I could sleep for days,” Atsumu sighed, collapsing on your bed. You laughed at him, pulling on a nightshirt.

“Hey, don’t cover the view!” he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist as you joined him. As if he didn’t stare at it long enough to etch it into his mind.

“You have a match tomorrow,” you reminded him. “Gotta laugh in your teammates’ face for that dumbass dare, so you can only sleep for one night.” You snuggled up against Atsumu, letting his warmth wash over the best of you.

You were too tired to really process the surprised in Atsumu’s voice when he agreed with you, too busy drifting off to sleep.

***

The match came without fail. Atsumu didn’t mention anything to his teammates as you gave him a kiss good luck before he entered the gym. You had proudly donned his jersey, ready to support him from the stands. But if that wasn’t enough, the scratch marks all across Atsumu’s back were enough to thoroughly shut up any doubts his teammates had about the night prior.

Atsumu was the setter for the whole game.

[taetaespeaches]

“You keep saying that we’re friends but you look at me for a moment too long for that to be true.”

jungkook x reader (or oc) genre: fluff word count: 900+

a/n: ok so I wasn’t gonna post for Kookie’s birthday because it’s still Jinnie upload time and also I was just being lazy but after getting up in my feels and reblogging a bunch of Guk content, I couldn’t help myself. So here we are. I wrote this in under an hour so sorry if it’s a little shit. This takes place early on in Guk/Holly’s relationship, before they have a “label” on their little thing. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoy! :)) 

p.s. HAPPY BIRTHDAY JEONGGUK!!! BE HAPPY AND HEALTHY TODAY AND ALWAYS. Best wishes for our little euphoria <3

p.s.s. this fulfills one of the drabble prompt requests a while back. The title quote was the request. Ok enjoy! 

YOU were in a trance and didn’t even realize the words were slipping out in a dazed whisper until Jungkook’s pretty orbs widened, a small smile lifting on his face as an adorable blush graced his cheeks.

“What?” He asked, almost needing to hear it again to be sure he wasn’t imagining things. Letting out a groan, you turned your attention back to the t-shirts you were folding, Jungkook giggling. “Just one more time,” he teased, you rolling your eyes.

“I said I love the way your eyes sparkle, it’s not a big deal,” you dismissed, your heart pounding against your chest as you bit back your grin. Your own face was heating up in embarrassment as Jungkook cooed at you.

“Do they?” he asked, widening his eyes as he looked in the glass of one of the drying machine doors.

“Stop,” you whined, the man giggling cutely at you.

“What else do you love about me?” He pestered you, you shaking your head lightly as you folded the shirt in your hands.

“Absolutely nothing,” you lied, Jungkook cackling at the comment. “When I tell people about my friend Jungkook, I tell them he has pretty sparkly eyes and no other positive attributes.”

Jungkook looked at you seriously for a moment, a slight glare before doing a quick head tilt, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You tell people about me?” He asked, a teasing tone coating the words. You let out a scoff in disbelief, a smile overtaking your face.

“You’re unbelievable,” you giggled, Jungkook chuckling with you. Finishing folding the last piece of your clothing, you lifted yourself onto the folding table, watching Jungkook as he continued folding his numerous black shirts and sweatshirts. “What about you?” You asked him suddenly, his doe-like eyes looking up at you in confusion.

“What about me, what?” He was so stunning. You could look at him for hours and never tire of it.

“What do you tell people about me?” You asked, embarrassed by asking the question, but feigning confidence as you gave him a shy smile. “I mean, if you do talk about me?” You added, ending the statement in a question, Jungkook’s adorable grin overtaking his face.

“I definitely talk about you,” he admitted, setting the shirt in his hands down as he observed you. “Probably too much.”

“Ah, so you’re obsessed with me,” you teased, Jungkook laughing as he nodded.

“Something like that, yeah,” he agreed. “Can you blame me?” The comment was spoken in a soft tone, shooting sparks throughout your body. The atmosphere of the laundromat was suddenly thick with the tension of unspoken words and unacted on feelings. Sitting in the heaviness of the air, Jungkook’s eyes observed yours as your gaze lingered on his lips.

“So, what do you tell them since there’s so many amazing qualities to choose from?” you joked in an attempt to thin the air, lifting your orbs from his lips to meet his. “Finish the sentence: I have this friend, and she…”

He didn’t say anything at first, simply watching you as he licked his lips, a small breathy laugh slipping between them as he ticked his head.

“You keep saying that we’re friends but you look at me for a moment too long for that to be true,” he told you, the air leaving your lungs at the words, the desirous tone in which he spoke them, and the way he stepped closer to you, placing his hands on your knees as he slotted himself between the v of your legs.

It was his turn to stare at your lips, a smirk forming on his face in response to the slight upward curve of your own mouth. “Are you telling me you don’t want to be my friend, Jungkook?” You pouted, teasing him, relishing in the way he smiled adorably at the comment. If you could make him smile like that for forever, you were sure you would always be happy.

Without a word, he leaned closer, but not too close, waiting for your signal that would tell him what he was about to do was ok. You gave him the cue to proceed by placing your hands on his shoulders and leaning forward just enough so your nose was bumping his, your mouths nearly connecting but not quite.

Jungkook closed the gap, pressing his soft lips to yours sweetly, his bottom lip slotting perfectly between yours. You both lingered there, not wanting to feel each other’s lips slip from your own quite yet. A few seconds went by before he pulled away just slightly, your lips still grazing each other’s. When his hand slid up your thigh just a little bit, you took a sharp breath in. Jungkook let out a single laugh in the form of a breath before catching your lips in another kiss.

Neither of you deepened the action much, too aware of the public setting you found yourselves in, but it was perfect with just the right amount of desire, need, and sweetness. Resting his forehead against your own, you both smiled at each other before he stood up straighter, looking down at you.

“I want to be your friend for a very long time, baby,” he told you, your heart racing at that damn term of endearment again.

“Well I have to warn you,” you started, Jungkook’s eyebrows raising. “This friendship might get a little bit complicated if you keep kissing me like that.”

Jungkook giggled at the comment, dropping his forehead to rest upon your shoulder. Leaving a kiss to your arm, he rotated his head just enough to look up at you. “I’m down to complicate things if you are.”

Were you down?

Absolutely.  

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

As it turned out, Tony did make great pancakes. Peter woke up the next day to the smell of them, and shyly headed in the general direction it was coming from, until he reached the kitchen. Tony was standing there, wearing impeccable gray dress pants, a crisp white shirt and a green tie, as he added batter to a frying pan. Peter supposed that was what heaven would look like when he died.

“Oh, hey, kitten, you’re up.” He grinned at him, who smiled in return, nodding. He had put his clothes from the night before back on, and he was glad he did, because Tony was dressed to the nines and it would have been awkward if he had shown up in just his boxers or something. “Sleep well?”

“I did, thanks.” And it was surprisingly true. Peter hadn’t had such a good night’s sleep in a while, he supposed he missed sleeping next to someone. He did share a bed with Beck for two years, so it felt awfully lonely to sleep by himself. “Are you headed to work?” He asked as he sat on a stool by the kitchen island and Tony nodded guiltily, fixing two plates of pancakes.

“I’m so sorry, I tried to make arrangements to get the morning off, but duty calls.” To his credit, he did look genuinely sorry, so Peter thought maybe it wasn’t just an excuse to get rid of him. Maybe.

“It’s okay, I have to be home soon, or my friends will worry.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but not exactly a lie either. They wouldn’t notice he was gone until lunchtime, since they both had work or class in the morning, but when they did notice, they would freak out.

“I thought you lived by yourself?” Tony sounded interested as he sat beside him by the kitchen counter and pushed a plate his way. Peter thanked him, taking a bite of the surprisingly good pancake.

“I do, but we live in the same building, so we’re always checking in on each other.” Tony hummed, nodding, and they were silent for a little while, until the older man spoke up again.

“Can I ask about your relatives?” He felt his eyes on him and knew that, much like the night before, he was testing the waters, making sure Peter was comfortable with that subject.

“Sure. I don’t have any, though. I’m an orphan, I’ve lived in foster homes for most of my life.” Peter didn’t really mind talking about that period – it was basically all he knew. He was too little when his parents died and was only ten when Ben and May passed away, so the foster homes were where he made most of his memories.

“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that.” Tony winced, maybe thinking he had touched a sensitive subject after all, but Peter smiled and shrugged.

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago. My friends are like family to me now, so I’m good.”

“I’m glad you have them.” Again, he gave him that genuine smile that made Peter believe he was actually glad to hear that. Like he actually cared. “So… Can I see you again? Or was this just a one time thing?” The older man turned his body to face Peter, who froze for a second with the mug held to his lips, mid-sip.

“Oh, uhm…” Peter almost chocked on the coffee, not quite believing his ears. He honestly thought that the older man would slowly disappear from his life. Or maybe not even that slowly. Peter figured he had gotten what he wanted, so why would he stick around? “I mean, sure. If you want.” He said, like an idiot, and Tony raised a brow.

“I really do, but I don’t mean to pressure you, so if you want to say no and just go back to what we had, that’s okay. Or not even that, if you prefer. Just say the word and I’ll get out of your hair.” He sounded honest enough, but Peter quickly shook his head, eyes wide.

“No, it’s okay, I definitely wanna do this again.” He assured him, and Tony seemed satisfied with his answer, expression softening as he nodded.

After breakfast, the older man insisted on driving him home and when they arrived at his building, he felt a little awkward as to how to say goodbye, but Tony made it easier by simply leaning in and kissing him softly on the lips, one hand stroking his knee in a gentle caress.

“I’ll call you later, kitten.” He promised and Peter just sighed quietly, feeling dizzy.

He was a little out of it for the rest of the day, both Ned and MJ asked what was wrong with him in separate occasions, but he just said he was tired from his new routine. They had dinner together and when he went back to his apartment that night, he was just mildly surprised that he actually got a call from Tony. It was an innocent, sweet phone call, too. He did not expect that, to be honest, they had been sexting for two months and they had actual sex the previous night, so he kind of expected Tony to just go for it.

But no.

He asked about his day, about his friends, he told him about his own day, then somehow they ended up talking a little bit about Peter’s childhood, his parents, aunt May and Uncle Ben, it was just a really nice chat, which he appreciated. Not that he didn’t enjoy talking dirty to Tony, but the fact that he called just to have a normal conversation with no second intentions was, well. Nice.

He didn’t really know where they were going with that, probably nowhere, really, Peter was an ex-porn star, Tony was an A-list celebrity, a billionaire and a fucking Avenger, so there was literally zero chance they could evolve to something else. They would probably just go out a few more times, have mind-blowing awesome sex, and then go their separate ways. And Peter was okay with that.

It was fine. Really. It was just fine.

And it was for the best, otherwise how would he explain to Ned and MJ that he was dating Tony Fucking Stark? It would be a nightmare. MJ would kill him and lecture him on how big corporations like Stark Industries were destroying their way of life and Ned would pass out – and possibly die – so, yeah. It was a good thing they had no real future together.  

That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted, though. Tony was really nice, a true gentleman, a good conversationalist, a great kisser and an amazing lay. So whatever he could get out of those moments they had together, he would. Everything was perfectly fine and under control. And did he mention fine?

The next morning, he woke up early and went for a jog around the block. He had been experimenting with different types of workout routines, but he thought he might stick with jogging and yoga for a while, he was even looking for a yoga studio close to his building so he could start training more seriously. When he got back, he took a long shower, made breakfast and spent a few hours answering people on Just4Fans, then posted a few pictures there, linked it to his twitter account and let people know on Instagram.

Tony texted him mid-morning and Peter blushed like a teenager when he read his message.

“Just saw the new pics, you look stunning as always, baby, but I have to admit I’m spoiled now, pictures are not enough. Can’t wait to see you again. Dinner tomorrow?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, sir, keep it coming.” He smiled to himself and bit his lower lip, excited by the prospect of seeing Tony again so soon. “Tomorrow sounds great, where are we going? Should I start stressing about the dress code?”

“I was thinking you could come over. Did I mention that I’m a great cook? Pancakes aren’t my only specialty.” Peter felt butterflies in his stomach. It was stupid, of course, but he just found it endearing that Tony wanted to cook for him.

“I’d love to. I’m curious about your cooking, your pancakes did taste fantastic.” Just the thought of that morning and, more importantly, the night before that, made his mind wander, as a quiet sigh left his lips.

“Prepare to be blown away.”

“You’re so humble, I love that about you.” The young man smiled to himself.

“Thank you, kitten, it’s one of my many qualities.” Peter laughed at his antics.

They settled on a time and Tony insisted on picking him up, even though it was obviously inconvenient since they were having dinner at his place, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so Peter gave in. They talked a little more, but soon Tony had to go back to work and now that the younger man knew exactly who he was, he imagined it was a lot of work.

He went on with his Saturday – in the afternoon, he took a few pictures and videos with different sets of lingerie he bought with MJ when they went to Victoria’s Secret, and that should be enough to last him at least a few days. At dinnertime, he went down to his friends’ apartment, as usual, and they were both home.

“What’s up, nerd,” MJ greeted from the couch, but didn’t raise her eyes from her phone.

“Hey, Pete, dinner is almost ready,” Ned called from the kitchen island.

“Want me to set the table?” He walked over to where Ned was fishing a plate out of the microwave.

“Sure.”

Peter knew his way around the kitchen, so he got to work, placing the plates and cutlery on the small, square table by the counter.

“Hey, are you up for a Star Trek marathon tomorrow night? I don’t have any classes next Monday morning, we can stay up late.”

“Oh, uhm. I –“ Fuck, he hadn’t really thought of an excuse for why he wouldn’t be having dinner with them. “I can’t, because…” He noticed that MJ had finally raised her eyes from her phone, only to stare at him suspiciously. “I have this thing, uhm, on my Just4Fans… Tomorrow night.”

“Can’t you just schedule the posts?” MJ asked from the couch, because of-fucking-course she knew about that.

“Uhm, yeah, I can, but – uhm. It’s a live stream. I’m live streaming tomorrow for the first time. It’s good for tips and stuff, so. Yeah. I’ve already let everybody know, I can’t cancel.” He gave them an apologetic smile, trying to look convincing, but he was pretty sure he just looked like a nervous wreck.

“Oh. Ok, then.” Ned shrugged and didn’t seem bothered at all, but MJ kept staring at him from the couch, like she could smell his bullshit from a mile away. She didn’t say anything, though, for which he was grateful.

The next morning, he woke up early and decided to skip his usual jog around the block and just did a short yoga session in his living room, warmed by the morning sun that flooded his apartment at that time. He had lunch with his friends and spent the afternoon with them, but left early with the excuse that he had to get ready for his “live stream”.

When the older man texted to say he was waiting outside, Peter was already showered and dressed and skipped downstairs two steps at a time. He didn’t know what he was supposed to wear to a billionaire’s house, but he decided casual was probably fine, so he put on a pair of light blue jeans and a light pink, thin sweater.

Tony was driving a low-profile, black SUV and he got out of the car when Peter stepped outside the building. He had a baseball cap and tinted glasses on, dark blue jeans, a Metallica t-shirt and sneakers, and if Peter didn’t know it was him, he would never have thought that was actually Tony Stark.

“Hey, gorgeous, looking good.” Tony didn’t think twice before reaching out to pull him closer by the hips, stealing a chaste kiss from his lips. Peter blushed and completely forgot he should be worried that Ned or MJ might see them if they came downstairs for something, or even if they looked out the living room window. He wrapped his arms around the older man’s neck and deepened the kiss.

“Thanks, but you should get your eyes checked.” He joked as he let go, taking a small step back.

“Yeah, I think so too, I think constantly staring at such beauty is taking a toll on my eyesight, I’m an old man, after all.” Tony pulled him by the chin and stole yet another kiss. When he pulled away,  Peter shook his head and laughed.

“Oh my God. Seriously, do you practice these lines in the mirror or something?” He had a feeling that if it was anyone else saying half the things Tony said to him daily, he would find it corny and possibly annoying, but somehow the older man made everything sound charming, sweet, sexy, endearing – hell, everything at once. And he always knew what to say to make Peter’s knees go weak, it was unnerving sometimes.

“No, you just inspire me daily, baby.” He gave him a charming smile, as he opened the door and gestured for Peter to get in the car.

The ride to Tony’s place was filled with the sound of the older man humming along to the music playing. Peter didn’t recognize any of the songs, it was a classic rock playlist, but then he heard a familiar beat and thought it was a great opportunity to stick his foot so deep inside his mouth he almost choked.

“I love Led Zeppelin!” He didn’t exactly love Led Zeppelin and he was quite sure he had just heard a cover of that song, not the original version, but he thought he’d sound cool if he said that. When he looked over, though, Tony was laughing his head off. Peter blushed a deep crimson, eyes widening as he realized he must have said something incredibly dumb.

“Oh, you’re not joking.” Finally seeming to realize that the younger man wasn’t laughing along with him, Tony turned down the volume, as they approached Stark Tower’s garage entrance. “That’s Back in Black by AC/DC, kitten. But hey, I love Zeppelin, too, who doesn’t?” He smiled warmly, looking at him sideways, and Peter nodded.

“Oh, right. Yeah. Of course.” Fuck his life. Of course he had to make a complete fool of himself right at the beginning of the night. He wanted to jump out the window from embarrassment, but it would only add to his humiliation, since Tony had already parked and got out of the car.

The older man opened the door for him and Peter avoided eyes contact, as he led him to the elevator. He could still feel his cheeks burning on the ride up, his head was starting to hurt from shame. Was that a thing?

“Hey, don’t be like this.” Tony pulled him into a loose hug, kissing his temple with a soft smile on his lips. “It was an honest mistake. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to identify whatever it is you kids listen to these days.”

It was oddly comforting to hear that. Even though he knew Tony wasn’t trying to be mean to him back in the car, it was hard not to feel attacked in situations like that. Beck always tried to make him feel dumb, inferior and juvenile whenever he got the chance.

So he rested his head on Tony’s shoulder and nodded slowly. He was going to say something like “don’t worry, I’m fine” but it got lost somewhere in the back of his throat when the older man held him a little tighter and stroked his hair.

The whole interaction lasted merely a few seconds, soon the elevator doors opened to the familiar sight of Tony’s living room, looking just as impeccable as it did a couple of nights earlier. The older man gestured for Peter to lead the way and he did, paying closer attention to the details, since he was a little too nervous to do it the last time he was there.

What he realized when he took a look around, was that the penthouse didn’t look lived in at all. It was all glass and metal, shiny floors and sophisticated furniture, black and gray decoration – it looked ready to be featured in one of those shows that listed the most beautiful houses in the world, but it didn’t look like a place he would like to go back to at the end of the day.

“You don’t spend a lot of time here, do you?” Peter asked, as Tony led them in the direction he remembered the kitchen and the dining room were.

“That obvious, huh?” The older man winced and Peter flushed, realizing he might have been a little rude in his observation. “But yeah, when I’m home, I spend most of my time down in the workshop.”

“Ah, the famous workshop. I suppose if I were to visit right now there would be pictures of me hanging on every wall?” He joked, remembering that Tony had once told him that he would hang his pictures in the workshop and never get any work done.

“I mean, not every wall…” He turned to him and winked, leaving the younger man a little unsure if he meant it or if he was just messing around. Sometimes it was hard to tell with the man’s sarcastic sense of humor. “I’ll give you a tour after dinner.” He promised, when they finally reached the dining room.

The table was set in a simple manner, for what Peter was glad, it made him feel more comfortable and at ease. Tony pulled out a chair for him then headed to the kitchen, which was separated from the dining room only by a long, wide counter, where the had breakfast the other day.

The man came back with wine, pouring two glasses for them, then he started placing the dishes on the table. There was mashed potatoes, grilled veggies and roast chicken, and the smell was to die for, Peter’s stomach rumbled and he wasn’t even that hungry.  

“Voilà. This was my favorite meal as a kid, my grandma used to make this for me all the time when I spent summers with her.” He took a seat across from Peter, looking at him expectantly. The younger man found his enthusiasm amusing, so he fixed a plate under Tony’s eager supervision. “Tell me what you think. But be nice, I haven’t cooked this in a while, it might be a little dry.”

Peter took a bite of the chicken first, and it took him a few moments to feel the explosion of flavors on his tongue. The meat was tender and juicy, cooked to perfection, and the seasoning tasted inexplicably like home – it didn’t taste like something he could order at a restaurant, let alone a frozen meal he could buy at the supermarket. He then tried the mashed potatoes along with the grilled veggies and almost cried.

“Tony, this is so good, have you considered dropping everything and starting a restaurant?” he gushed, taking another bite of the chicken only to confirm that, yes, that was probably what paradise tasted like.

“Don’t exaggerate. I already like you plenty, kitten, you don’t need to flatter my cooking skills.” Tony smiled, shaking his head lightly, and if Peter didn’t know any better, he might think he was blushing.

“I’m not, this is seriously the best homemade meal I’ve ever eaten,” he insisted and Tony cocked his head to the side, with a confused smile and a frown

“What the hell have they been feeding you, kid?” He asked and Peter chuckled.

“Well, I spent most of my life in foster care and I was never lucky enough to end up in a family that liked to cook.” The families he stayed with weren’t bad – not compared to some of the horror stories he heard from other foster kids he met in the past – they just weren’t good. They provided him with the bare minimum for survival, so water and enough food to avoid starvation. “And uncle Ben and aunt May, dude… They couldn’t cook for shit.” He laughed, remembering Aunt May’s date loaf, which was probably the worst thing he had ever tasted in his life.

“Well, now I feel obligated to feed you properly,” Tony announced, and Peter quickly shook his head, feeling his face grow red for the hundredth time that night.

“Oh, no, you don’t need to, I wasn’t–”

“I want to, if I’m your only source of good, homemade food, then I’m taking this seriously, kitten.” He pointed a fork at him as he spoke. “And you can help me cook, what do you say? That way I can teach you a thing or two so you won’t starve to death.” Again, the idea that Tony wanted to cook for him was too sweet. He was an incredibly busy guy who probably didn’t even cook for himself, but he was willing to waste that kind of time on Peter. It just–

“Sounds amazing.” He smiled, nodding, and the older man’s face softened when their eyes met.  

“Good.” He took a sip of wine and topped off both of their glasses. “Did you tell your friends you were coming here today?” That seemed like a polite way to ask if they knew about him, and Peter wasn’t sure what kind of answer he was expecting.

“No, they think I’m home.” He watched the man’s face, waiting for his reaction, but there was none, so Peter felt like he should explain himself further. “After my ex – they’re just a little too overprotective, so, you know. I just don’t want them to worry.” Tony raised his eyebrows and Peter’s eyes widened, realizing what that might have sounded like. “Not that I think you’re my – that we’re – I mean, I’m not assuming anything, I just meant –“

“Hey, it’s okay, I know what you mean.” He reached across the table to squeeze one of his shaking hands. “Your friends sound like good people, by the way. You’re lucky to have them.”

“Thanks.” Tony smoothly changed the subject and started talking about his summers with his grandmother and how she taught him everything he knew about cooking. He said that was the reason why his repertoire consisted only of comfort food and Peter thought that was the sweetest thing he had learned about him so far.

Once dinner was done with, Tony kept his promise and gave him a tour. The place looked like a labyrinth made of glass and steel, there were five floors, several rooms with various purposes, but everything seemed sterile and impersonal, like nobody ever stepped foot in any of those places, which somehow made them look lifeless and even a little scary – like a ghost town of sorts. Peter couldn’t help but think that his tiny, mostly empty apartment felt more like a home than all five floors of Tony’s.

Well, all except for one.

“And this is the workshop,” Tony declared with a flourish when the glass doors slid open, revealing a wide, open space filled with worktables, holographic screens, robots, cars, Iron Man suits, and so many other things he had never seen before in his life. “Sorry about the mess.” He didn’t sound sorry, though, he sounded happy and proud, and Peter thought it was the only place in the penthouse that felt weirdly cozy and homey. To his relief – and secret disappointment –, there were no pictures of him in lingerie hanging on the walls.

“This is amazing…” Peter breathed out, realizing that that was Tony’s actual home. There was even a kitchenette in a corner, and next to it there was a small, cozy couch in front of a reasonably sized TV and a fluffy rug. He supposed Tony took naps there, too, because there was also a blanket draped over the back of the couch.

He walked over there, followed closely by the older man, and took a seat, sinking into the soft pillows.  

“I think this is my favorite room.” He blinked up at Tony, who regarded him silently for a few moments, and Peter started to think he had fucked up again. “What?” He whispered, but his answer came in the form of a kiss. He immediately melted into it, all worries flying out the window as he opened his mouth to taste him better.

Tony pushed him gently until he was lying on the couch with his larger body on top of him, and he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

It was a tight fit, but they made it work, as pieces of clothes were thrown to a pile on the floor; as skin met skin and made the room feel unbearably hot; as hands explored and mouths danced together and teeth left secret claiming marks on eager necks; as he felt, once again, full and sate and whole, and then spent and lax and dazed in the best of ways.

Suddenly, what had been frantic and passionate became slow and soft, what had been loud and messy became quiet and wholesome.  

The room was silent then, as their bodies slowly cooled down. Tony was lying on his back on the couch and Peter was lying on top of him, chests flush together, breathing in and out in sync. He felt a blanket being draped over his shoulders and he all but melted into the body underneath him.

“Can I ask you a question?” He whispered quietly into Tony’s neck, after several minutes, not sure if the older man had fallen asleep, his breathing was slow and constant.

“Baby, you could ask me anything right now, there’s no way I’d say no to you.” He answered right away and Peter giggled, pushing himself up on Tony’s chest to look down at him.

“Why did you want to meet me? For real?” Tony, whose eyes had been closed until that moment, opened them to gaze at him. He was quiet for a while, as one of his hands found the small of Peter’s back under the blanket and started rubbing circles on his skin.

“I liked talking to you.” He answered quietly, eyes locked on his. At first, Peter thought that was all the answer he was getting, and he would have been fine with that, but Tony kept talking. “You made me feel alive again.” His heart raced and his breath hitched in shock. He blinked down at the older man, who raised his free hand to tuck some of Peter’s curls behind his ear. “You see, things were… rough. After Thanos.” He remembered the funny story Tony told him in the restaurant a few nights earlier and was surprised to see such grief in the man’s eyes. “I had these nightmares. Anxiety attacks. Couldn’t sleep most nights.”

Peter reached out and ran a finger across the man’s forehead, trying to smooth down the frown that had formed there. Tony smiled, grabbing that hand to give it a little kiss.

“Pepper wanted me to give up the suit for good, said it was killing me and she wouldn’t stand by and watch it happen. On top of that, my relationship with some of the Avengers was strained, to say the least. I thought retiring from the Avengers would be enough to solve most of my problems, but I was wrong and everything just kind of snowballed from there. So what I mean to say is that by the time I met you, I was… Fucking exhausted.”

“Tony...” He frowned, heart clenching, because he could hear the pain in the man’s voice and how much he meant every word and it was devastating.  

“I looked forward to talking to you every night, you know. Still do. I don’t why you got under my skin like that, but you did. So when I said I needed to meet you, I meant I needed to meet you.” He smiled and Peter’s heart skipped a beat. The whole confession was almost too much to handle, too much to believe. At the same time, he knew what Tony meant because he had also been in a very dark place when they met and, somehow, talking to him brought some light back into his life. “My turn?”

“Sure.” Peter smiled, entwining his fingers on Tony’s chest and resting his chin on top of them, looking at the older man’s face.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to answer, I have a feeling this might be a bit of a touchy subject for you.” He cautioned, and Peter gulped. He knew what was coming and he thought about not answering, but Tony had been honest with him, so he took a deep breath and nodded.

“O-okay.”

“How did you end up doing porn? Not that it’s bad or anything, you just sounded so uncomfortable the other night... Like you’re ashamed of it, or regretful.” Tony asked carefully, one of his hands was still rubbing soothing circles on the skin of his back.

“Hm… Well. It’s complicated. I guess the short answer is: I was young and dumb and my older boyfriend convinced me it was a good idea. Then he left me and took all the money and everything we’ve ever built with him and – and now the only thing I know how to do is porn, so… Yeah.” It was a very short version of what happened, but very accurate as well. Tony frowned, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you mean he took everything?”

“He told me to pack a bag and leave. Whatever I couldn’t fit in my bag stayed behind, as well as the social media accounts, the channel, the money… He locked me out of everything.” Peter’s voice grew weaker as he spoke, because he felt so fucking ashamed. Of everything. Of admitting he let a man like Quentin into his life, that he made so many terrible decisions just so he could stay with him, only to be treated like that in the end. It was fucking humiliating.

Tony sat up in a haste, forcing him to do the same, until they were both facing each other on the couch. The older man’s eyes were wide, he looked so shocked it was almost funny. Almost.

“Peter, that’s – why – wait, and what do you mean he convinced you to do porn? Is it not something that you want to do?” Peter dropped his gaze for a second, not really sure what the true answer to that question was. If he was honest with himself, most times he just avoided thinking too much about what he was doing.  

“Well… I don’t hate it anymore, I guess,” he settled on that, after a few minutes of silence. “Sometimes I even enjoy it now, like… Like when we talk,” he mumbled the last part, raising his eyes again to look into Tony’s warm ones, and the older man looked back at him with – what? Worry? Regret? Guilt?

“So you hated it? Before?” He insisted, and Peter knew he could still choose not to answer if he wanted to, Tony wouldn’t force it out of him, but still – Peter wanted to tell him. He wanted Tony to know.

To know him. All of him. Even the parts that hurt.

“I did.” He whispered, holding back the tears that filled his eyes when the confession left his lips, because that was something that he never wanted to acknowledge. It took all he had to hold Tony’s gaze and not look away in shame. “I just felt… kinda shitty sometimes. Like… I wasn’t even human, just an object to be used and abused and disposed of.” He continued, swallowing a lump in his throat. He couldn’t read Tony’s expression, but his eyes were gentle as always, there was no judgment there. “I didn’t feel like my body belonged to me anymore.” Saying that aloud came almost as a surprise to Peter himself. He always tried so hard not to think about those feelings he almost believed they didn’t really exist, even though they were always there at the back of his mind.

“Pete...” Tony cupped his face in both of his hands, he looked so torn, it almost made Peter regret telling him.

“I’m doing okay now, I promise. I’m in control of my body, my choices, my money. I’m fine now, really,” he vowed and Tony pulled his head closer and pressed their lips together – it wasn’t even a kiss, just a caress.

“I can help you.” He offered with determination, holding his face in his hands, looking straight into his eyes and they were burning with anger, but Peter knew it wasn’t directed to him. “I can help you get everything back, I can make his life a living hell for doing that to you, I can –“

“Please, don’t,” He winced, shaking his head firmly, lifting his hands to hold Tony’s wrists, feeling his pulse and how fast his heart was beating. “Okay? It’s in the past. It’s over now. I don’t want to – relive it, I just want to forget.” His heart raced when the older man closed his eyes and started shaking his head. “Tony?”

“Peter, you can’t ask me to –“

“I am asking you leave it alone.” He insisted, a little desperately, but Tony’s face was locked in a frown and panic started creeping up on him. He couldn’t bear to think about confronting Beck, having to see him again, maybe talk to him again, he just wanted to move on, to forget he ever existed. His eyes burned and he closed them, trying to get his breath under control, but he could feel his hands shaking. “Please, please, don’t make me –“

“Hey, no, no, no.” Tony gathered him in his arms, rubbing his shoulders in a soothing way. “I’m sorry, no, I would never force you to do anything, okay? It’s your choice.” He cupped his face in his hands again, peppering kisses on his cheeks and forehead. Peter started calming down slowly, and even laughed a little when the man’s beard tickled his nose. “You know that I see you, right? And I mean I see you, Peter Parker, not the persona in the videos or the pictures, and you sure seem pretty fucking human to me, kid. You know that, right?” Tony kept holding his head in between his hands, forcing Peter to look back at him, which wasn’t necessary, he couldn’t look away if he tried.

He smiled, nodding slowly, leaning in to kiss his lips. The older man lay back down, pulling him along, until they were back to their original position. He rested his head on Tony’s chest and closed his eyes, sighing in relief.

He felt Tony wrap his arms around his waist, holding him tight, and he thought to himself that if heaven looked like Tony making breakfast in the morning and tasted like his cooking in the evening, it certainly felt like holding him at night.

-x-

Tag list (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list):  @sadachmesarthim @iamnotparticularlyproud @staticwhispersinthedark @bluestarker

Sorry for the long chapter, guys, it really got away from me 🥴 Only four more chapters to goo ✨✨

[shorkbrian]

Freezing

Prelude - sorry for the bad quality lololol

Pairing - Bakugou X Reader

Prompt - I watched Tthe Second Time Around” with Debbie Reynolds and there's one scene where the love interest is like all kissing up on her trying to ‘warm her up’ and also I want to get better at smut!!! I am awful at it and if I try to read my own stuff I'm just like “!!!! Dude!! Just say pussy come on!! use the sexy terminology and stop approaching it like a anatomy test jeez”

Warnings - Dubious consent, noncon, mentions of stalking. NSFW. oral play, dirty talk.

Music -  haha once again too tired v sad haha

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Stop fuckin’ struggling, I’m trying to help.”

This didn’t feel helpful. Bakugou Katsuki, pro hero, had you wrapped up tight in a blanket, his arms wrapped even tighter around your torso. He held you to his body, your bottom half settled in between his legs, your back to his chest.. You could feel him snuffling your hair, pressing his face against your scalp and inhaling. It unnerved you. 

You had tried asking what a pro hero like him was doing, out hiking in the evening, in the middle of nowhere. You were supposed to be the only person that knew about this place. The man had brushed off your questions with a “don’t worry about it.”, so you had tried your best, trudging along, listening to the soft crunch of cold earth beneath two sets of shoes. 

He had kept pace with you, even though you figured that he was in way better shape than yourself. He could probably run the entire length of the trail without breaking a sweat. Well, to be fair, it was also cold. Almost frighteningly so. But you enjoyed the weather, liked the tingly feeling it gripped your hands with, how it froze your nose and ears and made you almost numb to you senses.

You decided the weather was not enjoyable when you fell face-first into a stream.  Usually it wasn’t this full, and was a little trickle you had to step through to continue hiking the trail. But the rains had been hard this year, so it was quite tricky trying to step through the ankle-deep water. Katsuki, ever the hero, had grabbed onto you, helping you wade through. You really didn’t need his arm around your waist, but the shock of the cold water drenching your feet was slowing your thinking.

There hadn’t been a rock in your path, nor a slippery patch. You had felt yourself trip on something, but there was nothing there. Regardless, the ‘helpful’ hand Katsuki was lending proved to be a hinderance, as you simply slipped straight out of his grasp like a wet fish. The water was freezing of course, and it drenched you to the bone, weighing down your clothes and leaving you with a deep chill, teeth chattering together as you shakily stood.

Lucky for you, Katsuki coincidentally had a blanket tucked in his backpack, and his quirk made it laughably easy for the man to start up a fire. You suppose the man felt bad about accidentally letting you fall into the water. He had sat you down, gathered a few pieces of wood for a fire. The next thing you knew he was pulling at your clothes, peeling the wet fabric away from your body. You had slapped his hands away, shooting to your feet and snatching the blanket from him. “I can do it myself you know.”

You had to step behind a bush, shedding your clothes slowly, your numb fingers and heavy limbs making it harder than it should be. But eventually you succeeded, wrapping the blanket around your nude body and engulfing yourself in a cocoon of soft warmth. Katsuki had motioned for you to sit down by him when you had trudged back over, and you complied. You don’t know when sitting next to him evolved into practically sitting on him.

“Mr. Ground Zero, I think I’m warm enough now, you can stop.”

“Naw, you’re still shaking like a leaf, shuttup and lemme help.”

Mouth clamped shut, you tried not to squirm as his arms squeezed you tighter to his chest. You almost jumped out of your skin when you felt warm lips press firmly against your neck. Before you could turn around, wriggle out of his grasp and ask what the actual hell he thought he was doing, the pro-hero planted another one, pressing his lips closer to the front of your throat. Were you shaking because you were cold? Or was it something else? At this point the reason why was fuzzy.

Was this usually how pro-heros acted when they rescued someone? You didn’t like this. It felt wrong, intimate and far too close.  Questions swirled around in your mind as you began shifting, trying to ease out of the man’s grip.

“Uhm, this is really awkward for me, I can just warm up by the fire.”

“Can’t you fucking hear? I said shut up, so zip the lips.”

“Mr. Ground Zero, I’m feeling really uncomfortable like this, I can jus-“

“I said, shut up. And m’names Katsuki, don’t call me by my hero title.”

Why? You stilled for a second, panting slightly. It was suffocating underneath the blanket. The firm arms wrapped around your torso weren’t helping either, squishing the breath out of your lungs.  Why couldn’t he just let you go sit by the fire?  If he wouldn’t listen to you, you’d have to show him through actions. He was making you very, very uncomfortable. Heros weren’t supposed to do that.

With a sudden twist to the side, you loosened Bakugou’s hold on you - he hadn’t been expecting that. Clutching the blanket securely around you, a bid was made to stand. Katsuki didn’t like that. You had risen into a crouch, intending to stand from there, but before you could process it, Katsuki had you pinned, flat out on your back.

Once your brain had adjusted to the sudden spin of being manhandled, you spluttered out your indignation. “Hey! You can’t just do tha-“

“How many fuckin’ times do I have to repeat my goddamn self? Shut. The fuck. Up. I don’t wanna hear any more protests comin’ outta your mouth, got it?”

An intensely sparking hand, bright orange and yellow and red dancing in the palm, lowered  down next to your face, silently threatening a burn if you didn’t obey. With wide eyes, you nodded, trying to decide whether to watch Katsuki, or his quirked-hand. The decision was made for you when Katsuki snapped his fingers, the ones connected to the hand not currently going off like a sparkler. He wanted your attention on his face.

“Be good for me, or else I’ll rock your shit. Hah, might just rough you up for the way you were struggling against me earlier, little brat.” He paused for a second, cocking his head to the side as he stared down at you. “Tch, nah,  It felt kinda good.”

You gaped up at him as he kneeled over you, horrified. What? What was going on? 

The man began pulling at the blanket covering your modesty, prompting you to grab at it tighter. He barely had to light up his hand before you were letting go, forced to part with the only thing hiding you from wandering eyes. And oh, did Katsuki’s eyes wander. The second he threw the blanket back, uncovering you, he leaned back, resting on his heels as he stared at your body hungrily.

Everything was happening so fast, you had just been going on a simple hike? Why was a pro-hero doing this to you? Didn’t Katsuki have better things to be doing? (Literally)

You voiced these thoughts in a small, soft voice, hoping you wouldn’t get yelled at again for simply speaking. “I don’t understand Mr. Gr-Katsuki….. What’s happening?”

The blond huffed, leaning forward again so he could be closer, a hand roughly pawing at the curve of your waist.

“I have been waiting so long to catch you alone. You think it’s a coincidence I decided to go on a hike today, huh?”

“What? What do y-“

“God, ever since I saw you in that shitty little bakery I haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you. Been a fuckin’ mess.” The man cut you off, hands coming up to squeeze at your chest, pinching your nipples, groping the soft flesh there. You were gasping, barely able to listen to the pro-hero as he continued. “You just looked so tasty, I wanted to pick you up and eat you out right there, in front of everyone. I bet you wouldv’ve liked that, huh? Me lickin’ all over your little pussy?”

You choked on a breath as Katsuki slid down your body, his dark red eyes still connected with yours. You wanted to protest, tell him what a gross, nasty pervert he was. Seriously, what the hell? You wanted to kick him, break his nose, distract him with pain long enough for you to hightail it out of there. But his earlier threat remained, kept you frozen in place, hands by your side. Your were pliant, complacent as the blond slid between your thighs, hands coming to rest and knead at your waist.

Katsuki breathed against your slit, the hot air contrasting so boldly against the chill around you that you shivered, your opening clenching. Katsuki chuckled at that, before pushing his face forward, giving your labia a long, slow lick. Your leg kicked out, unprepared for the sensation as you tried to hold back a squeal. You were far from a virgin, but you had to admit it had been a while since you had been with anyone intimately. Work was too hectic, too tiring.

Another slow, measured lick had you keening, before Katsuki went searching for your clit. He found the small nub, flicking over it with his tongue, sending electric bursts of pleasure tingling through your body. Unconsciously, you bucked your hips, searching for more stimulation as Katsuki pulled back.

“Oh fuck, knew you’d taste sweet.”

He dove back down, tongue licking and sucking and rubbing at your cunt, sometimes taking a second to slip inside your opening, probe at your insides before pulling out again, moving to suck on the puffy, abused lips. You cried out, unwanted noises leaving you as you writhed under Katsuki’s skilled tongue. You didn’t want this, but it felt so good. You were so wet, could hear the sound of your slick as Katsuki lapped at your pussy. He acted as if he was starving, eating you out so vigorously that you were actually brought to tears. There was slobber, spit, and slick everywhere, creating a delicious wet slide that let the man move as he wished, tongue sliding into and around your folds.

Distantly, you felt the heat of the fire, saw the emerging stars through the trees, felt a rock pressing into your back. These sensations were lost, the overwhelming pleasure you felt taking up all your focus. You were close, could feel yourself beginning to rush towards an orgasm. 

“Kat-Katsuki, wait! I’m, oh god, I’m gonna cum!”

You almost sobbed when he pulled away, licking at his wet lips. “Yeah? You gonna fuckin’ cum for me? Go ahead and cum, bitch.” He snarled.

When you felt his lips sealing over your clit, you shuddered. When he started sucking, you screamed.

Hands fisted in his spiky locks, you lost yourself in the pleasure, felt yourself crest that peak. An orgasm washed over you, tingly, shaky, hot. You trembled as Katsuki kept licking you, no longer sucking fervently at your clit. You had to tug his hair, pull him away from your pussy to get him to stop mouthing at you. You wanted to say something, maybe tell him to fuck off, or to let you be - but you could barely think.

Katsuki crawled back over you, wiping at his wet face with an arm. He was still fully clothed, hair barely mussed from all your tugging. He grinned down at you. “Felt goddamn good, didn’t it? Just wait ‘till I actually start fucking you.”

You wanted to protest, Katsuki’s hands already unbuckling his belt. 

You knew he wasn’t going to let you say no.

[my-happy-little-bean]

Do The Cooking By The Book

pairings: LAMP/CALM words: 6013 warnings: swearing, alcohol, implied panic attacks, small burn mention, general angst summary: patton bakes when he’s sad and nowadays, no amount of chewy chocolate chip cookies would be able to cover that up.

or: the five times patton bakes something for the others and the one time he can’t.

a/n- hello! welcome to part 2 of that series i mentioned before called  ‘let’s indulge bean in their slightly low quality, very personal fics’ (maybe i should actually make this an actual series on ao3 lol) :’)

i have been having a bit of writer’s block between this patton/janus one shot and golden slumbers (there's just o n e more scene i need to figure out, trust me it's haunting my every move), so i decided to write a bit of a fresh warm up instead! and by warm up, i mean i started writing it in the beginning of july and it somehow spiralled into a big thing, like they always do :’)

inspired by my declining mental health and my unhealthy obsession with baking focaccia at 2 am :)

p.s – later there's a [1] that's supposed to be a footnote but the formatting just said no so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

read on ao3 ~

enjoy!

----------------------------- 

~ patton’s chewy chocolate chip cookies ~

ingredients: 

2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

0 teaspoon club soda

2 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, softened (or melted, like my heart around my honeybees <3)

1 3/4 cups packed dark brown sugar (must be working out ;) )

1/4 cup granulated sugar sugar, honey honey (except no honey :P)

2 large eggs, room temp.

2 teaspoons vanilla extract (and not any extra-ct ;) )

2 cups Virgil-esque chocolate chips*

 *semi-sweet! ^v^

 –– 

“Holy shit, Pat.”

Patton smiled, all toothy and wide. He was still standing beside the couch Roman was lounging on, holding up the tray with his pastel blue oven mitts.

“You like it?” he beamed. Roman nodded, scrambling over the armrest to grab another.

“Umfh,  yeah,”  Roman replied, crumbs spilling out of his mouth. “Ovfiously.”

“...What?”

Roman quickly swallowed and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Patton laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “No worries! I think it’s a- dough -able.”

“...If you weren’t holding cookies right now, I'd say that you suck. But you're holding cookies, so..."

There was a pause that Patton quickly filled with laughter, even if it suddenly felt like he was struggling to carry the sound out of his chest and into the air.

Luckily, Logan walked into the room before Patton could say anything that was affected by the spontaneous pang in his chest. His eyes lit up upon seeing him. 

“Logan!” He cheerily dashed over to the other side of the room, holding up the tray to Logan’s face. “A treat for my smart cookie?”

Logan reeled back slightly to avoid getting hit by the edge of the tray. He pushed up his glasses.

“Ah, thank you, dear. But I do believe it is too early for copious amount of sugar consumption–”

“Just try one, cookie-tita,” Roman cut him off, “you and I know that you want one.”

Logan frowned at him over Patton’s shoulder, then looked back at Patton. He gave Logan the widest smile he could muster, which made him sigh. 

“While Roman’s reference was a bit of a stretch–” He eyed the cookies one more time, then looked back at Patton– ”I suppose I will agree to half a cookie.”

“Goody!” Patton said brightly. “Or should I say, gooey?”

“You shouldn’t.”

Logan picked one cookie up and took a small bite. His eyes softened, which made Patton’s heart melt. 

“...Oh sweet Einstein,” he muttered, grabbing one more cookie off the tray before making a beeline to the coffee machine in the kitchen. Patton just smiled to himself, admittedly a bit proud. 

Before he turned around to go see if Logan needed help, he heard shuffling coming up beside him. He looked over and smiled. 

“Virge! You’re awake!” Virgil pulled one side of his headphones up as Patton presented him the tray. “Cookie?”

“Uh, sure.” He took one and nodded when he had a few bites, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thanks, Pat.”

“No problemo!” he chirped, wandering back to the living room. Virgil trailed behind him, now slipping his headphones around his neck. 

“Did you bake these this morning?” Virgil asked as Patton set the tray on the coffee table in front of Roman, who readily lunged at it. Patton turned and smiled brightly at him. 

“Yeah! I mean...it was technically morning, heh.” 

Virgil blinked in that knowing way Patton was all too familiar with. Patton mentally cursed.  

“What do you mean by technically–”

Before he could say anything else, Patton clapped his hands together. 

“Well, I’m glad you all liked the cookies.” He tried not to think about how loud his own voice suddenly was. “Feel free to finish them!”

Roman frowned, mid-bite of his third cookie.

“Don’t you want any, sweetheart?"

“No no! I chip-ed in so much effort in baking them that I tired myself out, heh!” He faked a yawn. “I’ll just go to my room!”

Roman just laughed, stuffing another cookie in his mouth with a shrug. Logan wandered back from the kitchen, conjuring a book as he walked and nodding at Patton. He grabbed another cookie and sat on the couch beside Roman, leaning against his shoulder.

Virgil just looked at him as he left, eyes narrowed and steely. 

They’re so perfect, Patton thought as he sunk out to go to his room, leaving the three of his boyfriends alone with a wave. Perfect just the way they are.

 Without me.  

----------------------------- 

~ ‘i got ya’ focaccia ~ 

ingredients:

for the garlic-infused mixture

1/2 cup extra-virgin, PG-rated olive oil

2-3 minced garlic cloves

0 garlic gloves (haha i’m hilarious)

1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme or 1 teaspoon dried

1 tablespoon chopped fresh rosemary or 1 teaspoon dried

1/4 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper

for the bread

1 cup warm water

2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)

1/4 teaspoon honey honey, you are my candy girl–

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt (maybe it’s wearing some nice clothes!) (sea what i did there? i’m funny, aren’t i?) 

–– 

Virgil heard a soft ‘ shit ’ coming from the kitchen. 

Don’t panic, it’s probably all fine,  he thought, slowly walking towards the entrance to the kitchen.  It’s totally not some burglar, ready to steal all our spices and blow them into my eye, making me blind. It can’t be, we’re not even real so how could there be a burglar–

As he neared the dimmed light coming from the kitchen, however, a quiet sob broke through his thoughts.

A chill ran through him. The sob was muffled, squeaky, and admittedly a bit pathetic in terms of how there was an attempt to cover it up. Almost like the sound a puppy would make when someone accidentally stepped on their paw.

All too familiar.

“Patton?” he murmured, turning on another light in the kitchen. 

Patton was hunched over the counter space beside the oven, next to a saucepan on a burner; which was emitting a strong garlic and herb smell. 

That wasn’t what Virgil was focusing on, though; but rather the way Patton held his hand close to his chest.

Patton spun around on his heel when his name left Virgil’s tongue, his eyes wide and glazed over, like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Sh– Virgil! Hi!” He laughed nervously. “What are you doing here? It’s like, 2 am!”

Virgil dug his hands in his sweater pockets. “I’m always up at 2 am. What are you doing here?”

He watched as Patton’s smile forcefully tugged at the corners of his lips.

“I’m baking focaccia! Wanna join?”

There was a slight crack in his cheeriness. Virgil took a step closer. 

“What happened to your hand?”

Patton looked down at it, then held up his index finger, which was slightly red. 

“Just accidentally brushed up against the pan!” he chuckled. “It was still hot. ”

“How could you brush up against the pan,” Virgil deadpanned, hopping onto the kitchen island. “Roman’s asleep.” 

Patton blushed as he ran his finger under cold water.

“Grab the flour and pour a cup of it in that bowl,” he said, shaking his hand dry and going back to the stove. “I think that the yeast and honey had enough time in the water. I’m just about done with the garlic stuff.”

“Okay, honey,” Virgil hummed, already scooping the flour in the measuring cup.

Patton turned to face him over his shoulder with a smile.  

“Gosh, you get funnier at 2 am, kiddo.”

Virgil shrugged. “It’s easy to cater to your humour, babe. Though no one does it as good as you do.” 

Patton’s blush intensified, and it made Virgil feel a little more at ease that he could still make him flustered like that. 

“So really, Pat,” Virgil asked, stirring in the flour as Patton went over with a smaller cup of the garlic-infused mixture. “Why are you up so late baking focaccia of all things?”

A pause. Patton finished pouring in his cup before turning his back away, his head low. 

“No reason!” he said brightly, though Virgil suddenly felt edges of darkness to each word. “I thought it’d be nice. Plus Roman loves my focaccia. Thought I could surprise him!”

A pause. Virgil wanted to press him more, but there was something about Patton’s cracked smile that advised him against it. He knew a warning when he saw one. 

“He likes anything you bake him, babe,” he said instead, adding salt and the rest of the flour before beginning to knead the dough in the bowl. “You could bake him a frog and he’d be grateful.”

“Now Virge, I think you’re mixing the twins up again,” Patton giggled. Virgil smirked, even if he felt like he shouldn’t. There was such heavy air in the kitchen; a positive emotion wouldn’t last a second. 

“You sure you’re okay, Patton?” 

When Patton finally faced him, it felt like the air was sucked out of him. Now that he was standing under the light, he felt like he saw all of him more clearly. There were dried tear tracks running down his cheeks. Did he always have those? And under his eyes were bags of purple, dark and stormy; clear evidence that maybe Patton had been late-night baking before. 

However, that broken smile was what haunted Virgil the most.

“I’m just peachy, Virge!” he chirped, conjuring up a towel and covering the bowl of dough Virgil probably over-kneaded. Patton’s eyes seemed to drill right into his own. “ Positive.”

Virgil numbly nodded as Patton clapped his hands. 

“Well! Now we wait!” He smiled again at Virgil. “Want some coffee?”

 ----------------------------- 

~ mushy gushy marshmallows ~

ingredients:

marshmallow base

2 cups of sugar 

1/4 cup corn syrup

1 cup water (1/2 for for dissolving gelatin)

7 tsp / 3 packets of gelatin

1/4 tsp salt

1 1/2 tsp of vanilla extract

 dusting powder

1 cup confectioner’s sugar

1/2 cup cornstarch

*note to future patton: don’t make these, actually. they suck.

–– 

“Fuck!” 

Logan heard the curse from the kitchen, lifting his head from his book and immediately smelling for any smoke. 

“Patton?” 

There was no smoke. Instead, just another string of curses. Logan sighed; it was not like the moral side to swear. But reprimanding him didn’t sound like a wise idea. 

Instead, he set his book down on the coffee table in front of him and wandered to the kitchen. 

“Is everything oka–”

He stopped mid-sentence and looked at the sight in front of him. 

Surrounding him was a sugary mess, with many bowls of gelatin and water littering the entire counter. Logan could only assume they were failed attempts at whatever was being made today.

In the middle of this mess was Patton, holding the hand mixer up in the air with tears streaming down his face. 

“...Let’s put the hand mixer down, shall we?”

Logan moved forward before Patton could even respond, slowly lowering his hand that held the mixer. Patton just sobbed, dropping it on the floor in defeat. Logan tried not to panic at the suddenly broken hand mixer. Logically, they could summon a new one. It was extra energy, sure, but it was fixable.

However, he wasn’t quite sure he could fix the sight in front of him.

“Is there something wrong, starlight?” he murmured, ushering Patton toward the kitchen table. Patton just sighed. 

“It’s the stupid marshmallows.” Patton threw his apron onto the floor as he sat down. “I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong. I tried everything.  And they– they just suck.” 

Logan blinked, almost dumbfounded. In all the years he spent together with Patton, he had never seen him so distraught. Not even his arguably-worse decisions elicited a response similar to the frustration he was currently witnessing. Patton always wore a smile and carried on. Any mistake was just a mistake; nothing more to it. 

So what was different here?

“I even tried summoning a candy thermometer,” Patton continued. Logan tried his best to be present, even if his worry was slowly overtaking all of his senses. “Those things are stupid! I thought–”

“Hey,” Logan finally said, cutting Patton off by holding his hands into his. “Let’s slow down for a minute, okay?” 

When Patton looked up at him, his heart broke. 

Patton’s eyes were glassy with tears, some kind of foreign look not too far behind his irises. The absence of his smile was even more unsettling. 

He looked completely different; as if someone took one of the loves of his life and replaced him without even leaving a trace. 

Suddenly, he was filled with what he only assumed was longing. 

“Patton,” he said slowly, looking down at their intertwined hands, “please don’t worry about the marshmallows. They’re just marshmallows. Clearly there is something else that is–”

He cut himself off as he heard Patton’s breath hitch. When he looked up, there was a faraway look in his eyes.

And that was when it clicked. That foreign look…

It was fear. Fear and guilt, all wrapped up in one. 

The face of someone who just got caught.

Patton quickly pulled his hands away from Logan’s, stumbling onto his feet and muttering something about cleaning up later under his breath as he sunk out. 

Logan blinked, taken completely aback. He quickly re-evaluated every word he said that could have led to him leaving. 

“They’re just marshmallows.” 

Logan winced. Shit. Perhaps Patton was still in his ‘in his feelings phase; not his ‘in need of rational solution’ phase. He should have known better and now, Patton was further away from him than he was before. 

Logan then thought about the guilt that struck Patton’s face before he could confront him; the fear in his eyes when Logan dared to dig a little deeper. 

Patton wasn’t far away, actually.

Patton was just gone;   and Logan didn’t know where to look to find him.

----------------------------- 

~drunken    bitter    butter rumcakes~

 ingrdents:

for the cupcakes:

1 cup of choped picans

1/2 cup coconut flake

yellow cake mix, lots of it probs

some vanilla puddin apparently? i dont know why

eggs i dont care how much fuck it

1/2 milk

vegetable oil (optional cuz it sounds gros)

rum

for the bitter rum glaze:

some butter and sugar

more rum

rum 

 for the frosting

confictione confecion confectioniser’s powdered sugar

soft buttter

vanilla extract

rest of the bottl eof rum probably

 ––

It only took a crash from the kitchen for Roman to realize that Logan and Virgil were right: something was wrong with Patton. 

Virgil had been the first one to express his concern, and it was right on the day Patton baked them all cookies. Patton had since baked many more cookies; which for some reason, only intensified his worry. Roman didn’t think much of it at first. Virgil, bless his soul, always held a bit of his paranoia close to his chest. Plus, Patton’s cookies were the best! There wasn’t much to complain about. A few days later, Virgil mentioned something weird about Patton’s focaccia; but even that admittedly didn’t raise any concern from Roman. 

It was when Logan mentioned the marshmallow incident that Roman knew something might be off. 

The two had warned him that going to the kitchen late at night could possibly bring some less than ideal sights, but that only drew Roman closer; like a beautiful moth attracted to light. If Patton was truly upset, Roman had to be there! He knew that the others didn’t know much about navigating the small crises Patton would have every now and then, but Roman did! It was Patton, after all! Roman had experience — and he just had to play it by the book. 

But when he finally walked into the kitchen upon hearing the source of the crash, he was greeted with something he never quite saw before. 

Patton was on the ground, holding a long, glass bottle by its neck and a bowl—with all its contents—was splattered on the floor beside him. 

Roman stood there, almost dumbfounded. Patton didn’t even realize he was there before he looked up and blinked a few times. 

Then, Patton started to cry. 

“Oh, sunshine,” Roman murmured, sitting next to him on the floor. The strong stench of alcohol filled the air beside Patton, and Roman saw a glimpse of a rum label on the bottle. It was half empty. 

“M’sorry,” Patton mumbled under his breath, immediately resting his head on Roman. “Didn’t–” He hiccuped– ”Didn’t mean to make noise.”

“Shh, mi amor, it’s okay.” Roman stroked his hair slowly, going through the familiar motions of comforting his boyfriend. “I understand. Let me help you, okay?”

Another sob wracked through Patton’s body. 

“I– I don’t deserve your help.” The words came out in a slur. Roman had a slight feeling that Patton didn’t use all the rum in his bottle for baking.

“Nonsense! Of course you deserve help,” Roman whispered, twirling a strand of his hair. “I’m here to help you. I always am.”

Patton leaned into the touch, though the weight of his head seemed heavier than usual; like he was unintentionally pressing himself onto Roman, limp against his shoulders.

“S’fine,” he said after a few more teary hiccups, trying to push himself onto his feet. “Gotta– gotta finish cupcakes. Tryna new recipe.” 

Roman frowned. “The cupcakes can wait until tomorrow, Patton; I’m going to bring you to bed and clean up–”

“No!” 

Roman jumped at the sheer volume of Patton’s voice, suddenly nervous that he’d wake the rest of them up.

I can handle this myself,  he thought.  I always have been able to, this isn’t different. 

“No, I don’t– I don’t need your help.” Patton stumbled up to his feet, leaning his arms on the kitchen counter like it was a life raft. He buried his head in his hands.  “I don’t need your help, I don’t need anyone’s help, I just need– I just need to finish this, then–”

“Darling, I don’t think–”

“No thinkin!” He pushed his index finger onto Roman’s lips. “No thinking, that’s for Logan. Tonight, we’re not thinking of anything– not thinking about anything anymore.”

Roman was taken aback. 

“Patton, we can continue,” he said gently, “but only if you sit down first and let me grab you some water, okay?”

Patton lifted his head to face Roman, his eyes red from the tears. 

“Why do you take care of me?” he suddenly asked, his voice a small whimper. Roman froze as he continued. “Why do– why do any of you care?”

“Patton, I–”

“I don’t do my fucking job right anyway,” Patton hissed. “I’m– I’m broken junk in Thomas’ brain! I can’t even do the right and wrong thing, I can’t– I can’t make him happy. I can’t make you guys happy– ‘n I  love you guys! God, I can’t even make stupid cupcakes–”

“None of that is true, Pat,” Roman tried to protest. “You make us extremely happy, you make me– ”

“You’re a liar!” Patton cried, turning on his heel to stare at Roman, whose heart dropped. “You’re– you’re a fucking liar, Roman.”

The air suddenly felt too thick for both of them to be breathing. Patton must have noticed that because as soon as the words left his tongue, he covered his mouth with his hands with teary eyes. 

“...Patton, please sit down. You’re not thinking straight.”

“M’not–”

“I know.” Roman tried to keep his voice levelled as he spoke. “Just...just sit down, okay? We’re going to talk it all through.” 

Patton just stared at him blankly for what seemed like an eternity before finally speaking up. 

“I’m sorry.”

And before Roman could plead for him one last time, Patton sunk out, the bottle of rum still in his hand.

Roman blinked at the spot Patton once stood in, all shaky and teary like he was facing an inky, twisted nightmare. His words echoed in his head and while Roman knew it was best not to take it all to heart, he still felt the sting of each curse. 

What kind of a hero was he?

He then looked at the splattered mixture on the floor and sighed. It looked a lot like cake mix. And if there was rum in that, it probably would’ve been good. A shame, really.

His eyes then spotted a book on the kitchen counter, open to a page that had a bit of rum on it judging by the smell. Roman frowned, going over to grab it. He closed it to look at the cover. 

It seemed to be Patton’s recipe book, judging by the baking-themed stickers littering the blue cover. When he opened it, he was greeted with pages of ingredients and instructions to make some of Patton’s signature baked goods. The first few pages made Roman smile; there were puns besides some of the ingredients and even cheesy references to him, Logan, and Virgil. It seemed very Patton-esque. 

But as he went further through the pages, the tone seemed to shift. There was an absence of puns for one of the recipes, and Roman knew he could’ve at least hit a few. And when he got further than that, he just stopped writing measurements all together. The rum cupcake recipe, which seemed like a recent entry, was barely decipherable. 

He flipped back a few pages and saw words scratched out; sentences that didn’t belong in a typical cookie recipe. And the corners of some of the pages were crisp, as if water dried on them over time. 

Roman’s breath hitched as he closed the book. Something was wrong, and for the first time he didn’t know what to do.

----------------------------- 

~ whats good-berry muffins ~ 

ingredients

who

cares

theyre

just

stupid

muffins

berries, probably

––  

“Roman, he did not mean what he said,” Logan said as Roman paced in front of him. “Perhaps you caught him at a bad time.” 

“A bad time?” Virgil echoed incredulously, turning around on the couch to face Logan. “Dude, he was wasted. That’s not a bad time, that’s a ‘code red’ time.” 

“Besides, shouldn’t you be advocating for intervention,  lo -ve of my life?” Roman asked, still pacing. “You seemed pretty upset about the now-called ‘marshmallow incident’.”

Virgil gave Logan a look and Logan looked down, almost embarrassed. 

“...I have since realized that my actions were not ideal, but that is to no fault of my own. Holding guilt does no good, and neither does intervening when one does not want to be...intervened upon.”

“Okay first off, even Janus lies more subtly than that.” Logan didn’t make eye contact with him, but stiffened at Virgil’s words. “And second of all, Patton  needs support. We’re supposed to be there for him – not just waiting for the most dire sign. The plane is crashing, Logan; you can’t just put your seatbelt on and wait. You have to do something.” 

“Actually, if an airplane is crashing and you are instructed to put your seatbelts on, it is of your best interest that you–”

“For Odin’s sake,” Roman groaned. “I love you, my nerd in shining armour; but you got to learn what a metaphor is.”

Logan fell quiet as Roman continued. 

“We need to do something. This isn't a typical Patton dilemma. And I know he doesn’t want to talk about it just out of the blue so we can’t confront him. We have to figure out a way for him to trust us.”

“He loves us,” Virgil grumbled, though hints of anxiety singed the edges of his words. “Shouldn’t the trust be there already?”

“Virgil, he loves us an infinite amount,” Logan said reassuringly, finally settling back into the chair. He pushed up his glasses. “In fact, he probably loves us too much to want to worry us or cause us any emotional strain.”

“But it wouldn’t cause us– well, whatever you said!” Virgil protested. He slumped over, his elbows pressed into his thighs. He looked defeated. “I just want to help him. I can’t stand seeing him like this.” 

“I know, stormcloud,” Roman murmured, sitting down beside us. “But...but we can do this. Together. We always have and now, we will.”

Logan nodded, tapping his shoulder so Virgil could rest against it. 

“Roman is correct. Besides, we do not even have to confront him. Perhaps confrontation is where part of this issue stems from. The trust is there, we just have to remind him that we are willing to, given that we are his partners. We just need to make a comfortable environment for–”

Suddenly, Virgil felt a small tug in his chest; as if something was pulling him downwards. His eyes widened and his breath hitched at the sensation. He knew where it was coming from. 

“Guys, it’s Patton. Something’s wrong.” 

In a flash, he sunk out, Logan and Roman soon following suit. Roman pulled out his sword just in case.

When they rose, they found themselves in Patton’s room; though it was less bright than usual. The fairy lights were flickering and swaying against the walls and the frames were all askew. It looked as if it was struggling to keep itself together. 

And in the middle of the room was Patton, on the floor and tugging at his hair as he cried, heaving into each sob. Surrounding him were boxes of half-summoned muffin mix, as well as some sugar slowly fading out of existence. In front of him was his recipe book, tearstained and ripped at the edges. 

Virgil immediately went to Patton’s side, scooping him up into his arms. Patton made no effort to protest, his body still clenched up from all the energy he was spending summoning the ingredients into his room. In the corner of his eye, he could even see the beginnings of what would be an oven.

“Patton,” Virgil heard Logan breathe out, still standing in the same spot behind them, almost in shock. “You are spending too much energy summoning all these things, your room nor your form cannot handle it. Why don’t you just go to the kitchen?”

Patton sobbed even more, tugging at his hair and curling up into Virgil’s chest. Virgil looked up at Logan over Patton’s hunched shoulders and just shook his head, his eyes flickering between him and Patton. 

Logan then made a small ‘o’ shape with his mouth, slowly approaching the two on the floor and sitting cross-legged beside him. He made an attempt to lower Patton’s hands from his hair. Eventually, it turned into him rubbing small circles in Patton’s back with the palm of his hand, softly whispering “it’s okay” under his breath as he moved closer to him and Virgil. 

Roman dropped his sword onto the floor and followed suit, grabbing a fluffy blanket from Patton’s bed and going behind his three boyfriends, laying the blanket over their shoulders as if he was shielding them from the unstable room surrounding them. He hovered over their shoulders for a while before kneeling down and hugging all three of them. 

And as the ingredients slowly disappeared around them, the room began to fix itself. Patton could breathe a bit slower now, yet the others curled up into him like the warm blanket they were surrounded by. 

Eventually, Patton realized that he was no longer crying;  yet everyone stayed. 

And then, Patton fell asleep;  and they stayed for that too. 

----------------------------- 

~ Don’t Forget-ti That We Love You Funfetti Cake* ~

 Ingredients:

 For the cake

1 and 2/3 cup (210g) all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon baking soda (because so-da one for us!) [1]

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup (1 stick or 115 g) unsalted butter, melted

3/4 cup (150g) granulated sugar

1/4 cup (50g) packed light brown sugar

1 large egg

1/4 cup (60g) yogurt

3/4 cup (180ml) milk

1 Tablespoon (15ml) pure vanilla extract

2/3 cup (90g) sprinkles (nonpareils not recommended**) 

For the buttercream

1 cup (2 sticks or 230g) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature

3–4 cups (360-480g) confectioners’ sugar

1/4 cup (60ml) heavy cream

2 and 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

salt, to taste

 *Virgil actually came up with this and thinks its so lame so thats why that’s the name LOL ~ Roman

[1]  Roman wrote this pun but I am making the executive decision to retract this comment from the original script because it is not a necessary part of the recipe.

**can you tell that lo was the one who wrote the recipe ~ v 

–– 

Patton tried his hardest to fight the pull coming from the kitchen. 

It’s been a few days since the others found him in his room after his failed ‘bake muffins in isolation’ mission and Patton hadn’t dared to bake since. After all, if that incident wasn’t a good enough warning, the other times they found him in the kitchen were. He couldn’t let them see him like this again, what ‘this’ was. 

The others thought they knew he was upset about something, but Patton didn’t know how to tell them that he didn't even know what he was feeling. He wasn’t upset, he wasn’t stressed; he was just feeling every feeling, all at once.

And he didn’t know what to do. 

Baking was the only thing he could do when he felt like this. He longed to see a smile on Virgil’s face; to watch Logan actually eat and enjoy it rather than talking about how it didn’t matter that they ate; to laugh as Roman scarfed all of it down and ask for the recipe. The recipe book was actually going to be Roman’s gift for their anniversary. It made his heart ache even more knowing that it wasn’t good enough for him anymore. 

When he felt everything or nothing at all, he would just bake and watch as the people he loved were filled with joy; and Patton, selfish as it is, would bask in the sunlight they radiated. If he kept baking and kept making them happy? Well, their light could never disappear. 

But then, it did.

And Patton couldn’t bear to stand in the darkness of that kitchen anymore. 

Still, the tugging persisted. Patton secretly hoped that him pitying himself would guilt whatever force was summoning him to the kitchen into giving up its pursuit. 

Patton sighed, tugging the strings of his cat hoodie a little tighter so that the hood with wrap around his head. Maybe if he didn’t show his face, no one would see that he had been crying for an hour or so. 

When he sunk out, he was met with a warmly-lit kitchen and a small cake in the middle of the dining table.

Patton frowned, walking towards it curiously. It was a very...rustic cake, if rustic still meant ‘messy’ in baking terms. The icing was a bit rough around the edges and he felt like the writing in icing was supposed to say “WE ❤ U” but the heart looked a bit like...well, Patton didn’t want to say. 

Still, it was rather cute. There was a small plate beside it with a fork and a slice of the cake, dots of sprinkles baked into it. Patton smiled; it seemed to be a funfetti cake! His favourite!

Patton took a bite out of the cake without really thinking about it, his smile only growing at the sweet taste. 

That was when he saw the book. 

It laid neatly beside the plate, open to a page he didn’t quite remember writing. On it were various scribbles of bright red ink mixed with blue ink, along with a note written in pencil at the bottom of the page. He recognized the handwriting immediately as he picked up the book and began to tear up. 

“Virgil, if he does not want to be summoned you cannot–”

Patton looked up from the book and saw Logan and Virgil suddenly at the entrance to the kitchen, stopped in their tracks with their eyes wide. They stared at each other for a brief moment before Virgil huffed, breaking the silence.

“See, Lo?” He kissed Logan's cheek and went on his tip-toes to ruffle his hair, much to Logan’s dismay. “Patton always comes down for cake.” 

Patton dropped the book on the table and went over to sweep the two in a big hug, warm and tight and filled with love. Virgil fell quiet, but hugged back as Logan chuckled, patting Patton’s back. 

“I sincerely hope the cake is to your standards, Patton,” he said as he pulled back. “I know that the aesthetics are not...well, they are not ideal; Roman spent so much time planning that he forgot to take into account the amount of time we’d  actually have–”

“Logan?” Patton said, his voice still scratchy from being close to tears. “I love you. It’s perfect.” 

Logan smiled brightly, the light from it almost blinding Patton. 

“You guys didn’t have to bake for me!” Patton rubbed at his eyes with a small laugh. “I know baking a cake is no easy task, especially a funfetti cake!”

Virgil shrugged. “Logan led most of it. I kinda just made sure the kitchen didn’t explode. You know how those two can get."

Patton giggled. “Of course.”

“Roman should be on his way shortly,” Logan said, pushing up his glasses. “He is acquiring a few blankets and pillows from his room.”

Patton perked up at the thought. Roman’s blankets were made of the softest, most delicate velvet. The idea made his chest warm up.

“You guys did all of this for me?” Patton asked, his voice small. 

“Of course we did, Pat.” Virgil held Patton’s hand and kissed it softly. “We love you. And we want to be here for you; even in the less-than-ideal times. You would do the same for us.”

“But we do not expect you to dwell on your emotions if you do not feel comfortable doing so,” Logan continued as he went over to the dining room to grab the cake. “If you would like, we can watch Disney movies and eat cake and provide a distraction. However, we want to reassure you that we are here to listen to whatever is troubling you, so whenever you feel comfortable, please do not hesitate to reach out.” He paused. "We do not have to find a solution right now. We can metaphorically 'sit in the feelings' for a while."

Patton smiled as Logan arrived at his and Virgil’s side. He kissed Patton’s shoulder softly before making his way to the living room, where Patton could hear Roman rambling about what movie would be the best to watch; and he heard Logan’s rebuttals come after. 

And walking out of the kitchen and into the living room could only be described as a slow-moving blur. Patton watched as Roman spotted him and swept him up into a big hug, startling Virgil who was later brought into the hug as well. He watched as Logan gave them an amused smile, patting the blankets Roman arranged under a pillow fort in front of the TV, the opening to Tangled—Patton’s favourite—playing on the screen. 

“I love you guys,” Patton murmured as he sat in the middle of the pillow fort, a plate with cake in front of him. Logan sat beside him with a nod, kissing his head as he summoned four forks with a smile. Roman and Virgil found their way somehow into the tangled mess of each other, cuddling against Logan and Patton until they were the closest humans, or sides, could ever get.

And no one complained when Patton paused the movie when Eugene got stabbed, crying a bit and telling them about how that scene sort of reminded him about what he felt the night before. No one left when Patton began to spiral a bit from that and sob into his cake, finally admitting to them his thoughts and how he had just been feeling everything. 

And then, everyone stayed; even after that. 

[haileyyanneupton]

under the stars (just you and i)   🌌

pairings:

hailey upton x jay halstead 

prompted by tumblr post by @snowwhite013​ and post by @upstellaride (on twitter)

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Chicago was chaotic by nature. The Intelligence unit had been completely and utterly slammed for months now. With increased gang activity not only in the 21st District but all over the city, everybody was being stretched to their absolute limits in every way possible. Jay and Hailey — whose romance had been placed on the backburner when the surge began — were no exception to this; they were both equally as overworked and exhausted as one other. Their apparent inability to pass up a case was costing them not just their precious beauty sleep, but quality time to spend together as a couple, leaving them both frustrated every time the phone rang. 

“You and me, Bartoli’s.” Hailey glanced up from the paperwork in her hand at the sound of her boyfriend’s voice. He was sitting across from her on his side of the desk that had slowly but surely become their communal desk over the years, his feet up on the edge of the surface as he stared at the blonde haired woman, awaiting a response. “When?”  The question was simple, but it was one that hung in the air for longer than either of them would have liked. It was a simple question that in theory required a simple answer, but with the unpredictability of work as of late, both Jay and Hailey were unwilling to offer up a time or day without proper thought being put into it. “What about after shift tonight?” Jay offered, hesitation evident in his voice as Hailey’s eyes flickered to the rest of the unit — it was relatively empty. At least, the emptiest it had been in a while. “It’s been kind of mellow today, right? I mean, the fact that we have time to be here doing paperwork is usually a good sign.” “Tonight. After shift. . .” Hailey considered it for a moment, humming lightly to herself in thought. “Sure. Tonight after shift sounds good.” Jay couldn’t help but grin as he hid his face in his coffee — caffeine was the only thing keeping him going at this point — he had been dying for a night out with his girl. It had been far too long since the two of them had been able to just talk, and his Hailey withdrawal symptoms were coming in fast and hard with no place to go. Sure, they worked together every day — but with how spread out the Intelligence unit had been, they were lucky if they even got to say hello to each other. All of these reasons put together were contributing factors to his particularly pissy mood when Voight made his way back upstairs and informed everybody that they wouldn’t be going home until they could pull up a lead on the drug-bust-turned-triple-homicide they were working out in Jefferson Park. “Guess this means we’re cancelling. Again.” Hailey sighed deeply as she stood beside Jay, the pair of them watching as Kim placed the victims photos up on the board. “This is what — the fourth time now?”

“It’s not my fault, Hailey,” Jay mumbled under his breath. “Don’t blame me. Blame the guy who shot three people for his fix.” Hailey’s eyes snapped over to him, the blue of her irises darkening as she made it very obvious she wasn’t about to put up with his bullshit for another long night shift when they were both exhausted. “I know it’s not your fault Jay. Did you hear me say it was? Because I sure don’t remember those words coming out of my mouth.” Jay mumbled again, although this time it was a practically silent sorry that Hailey’s Vulcan hearing only just managed to pick up on. She could feel his frustration and despite knowing it wasn’t intentionally being directed at her, she also wasn’t about to let her get pushed around to make him feel better, even if he was her boyfriend.  That’s how the next week or so went. Both Jay and Hailey were snapping at each other left and right, and although they both were mature enough not to hold a grudge against the other for longer than a few minutes, neither of them were exactly enjoying themselves. Their triple-homicide came and went, and before they knew it they had been thrown into an arson case — they couldn’t catch a break, no matter how hard they tried.  Jay had walked into the locker room one evening after Hailey had disappeared for a while, his search for the woman coming to an end quickly as he spied her sitting on the bench with her head in her hands. Just when he thought he’d give her some time alone, (he figured she was probably trying to gather her thoughts or something) the sound of almost silent cries coming from the blonde caused his heart to ache painfully. At first, he wasn’t sure — but when the sight of her back rising and falling sharply with each cry, Jay practically bolted over to her in panic. “Hails." Jay sat down on the bench beside his girlfriend, his voice soft as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hails, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?" Hailey shrugged his hand off of her shoulder — not in a cold way, just in a 'I don't want you to see me like this' kind of way. Nonetheless, Jay persisted as he wrapped his arm around the woman's torso, pulling her closer to him until her head was resting in the crook of his neck. Hailey tried to wipe away her tears roughly, the woman clearly worked up as Jay ran his fingers through her hair in a feeble attempt to offer up some comfort. "Hailey?" "I'm fine, Jay." Hailey's response was much too quick for Jay's liking. Even if she hadn't been crying, her response alone would have provoked concern from the man. He only frowned down at his girlfriend sadly, his heart aching; Hailey wasn't one to show her emotions to anybody. Any time Jay saw Hailey this way, he felt his entire body tearing apart in some inexplicable way — he had the overwhelming urge to find a way to fix it. Because seeing Hailey upset was the absolute worst thing he could ever see. It was so heartbreaking and tore him apart so severely that it could (and would) keep him at night. "You're not fine," Jay's voice was gentle and unthreatening, but he still balanced on the line of pushing as she took a deep breath against him. "You don't have to be fine. But I think it'd help if you talked to me — you're the one who taught me that, remember?" Hailey stayed silent, not daring to utter a sound. Instead, she fixed her gaze upon one of the lockers standing in front of her, studying it as if it were the most interesting thing in the world before she found her breath getting caught up in her throat all over again. Before she knew it, tears were pouring down her cheeks all over again, half of them sad and half of them angry, partly because she had no idea what the hell she was crying for. "Please tell me what's going on," Jay practically begged his girlfriend this time as he rubbed circles on her back, his brows shaped in a concerned V. "Please tell me so that I can — I don't know." "I'm just so tired," Hailey breathed, her sentence being interrupted by a hiccup as she ran her palms down her cheeks. "I haven't slept a full night in days, Jay — neither have you. I'm tired of fighting you and arguing every time we're in the same room together for no other reason other than the fact that we're both exhausted, I'm tired of the lumpy couch and sleeping without you. I miss you, Jay. I miss you so goddamn much it's physically painful right now and I genuinely just don't know how to deal." Jay was sure he could feel his heart breaking into two right there and then, his grip tightening upon Hailey as he held her close. Hailey only sunk into his hold in response to the gesture before sniffling softly, barely moving as the pair froze in time for a short while. It was Jay who broke the silence a few minutes later, his hand still circling her back as his words were muffled slightly by her head. "I'll tell Voight we're both coming down with something." "Jay —" "I'll get Platt to cover for us." "But —" "No buts. We're working something out right here, right now so that you don't have to spend another minute here in pain because if you're in pain. . . I'm ready to kill, maim or otherwise seriously injure whoever's responsible." Hailey let out a small snort of amusement despite her mood. After all — how could she not? It was Jay. Cracking-jokes-at-the-most-inappropriate-of-times Jay. Her Jay.  And despite the fact that she was still weeping silently in frustration and all of the other emotions that had decided to make themselves at home without her go ahead, her Jay was always able to put a smile on her face. "Let's just finish this shift." Hailey exhaled deeply, using a few fingers to wipe away her tears once more. "I'll be okay, Jay." Jay didn't seem all too convinced. "Are you sure?" "I'm sure," Hailey nodded as she wrapped an arm around her boyfriend and rested her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating beneath his skin; the sound was oddly calming. "I just had to have a little cry." Although Jay was still hesitant to let Hailey go (mostly because he loved having her close and she was so, so warm) he knew that his girlfriend was one of the most headstrong women to ever walk the earth; once she said they were finishing the shift, they were finishing the shift. As soon as six o'clock came around, Jay and Hailey were out of the 21st district and packing into Jay's truck, switching their phones off so that they could have plausible deniability if they were called back in for a case. Yes, the detectives were dedicated to their job and by extension, the city of Chicago, but tonight was a night for them. A night where they could breathe a little bit. God knows they needed it. Hailey had no idea where they were going once Jay passed the turnoff for not just his house but her's too, but quite frankly, she didn't care. She didn't even question it when she saw the "Thank you for visiting Chicago" sign, she and Jay sitting in silence until they arrived in an empty field. It was dark by then, the sky being lit up by nothing than the moon and stars above them. "Come with me." Jay wore a lopsided smile on his features as he spoke, heading around to Hailey's side of the truck as he opened the door up for her and helped the woman out with an extended hand that she gratefully took. Hailey couldn't help the suspicious (and slightly concerned) expression she wore on her features, just as Jay couldn't help laughing at the very same expression.  His lopsided smile turned into a grin as he pulled Hailey along, almost giddy as he pulled down the back part of his truck so that it laid flat. She wasn't sure how she hadn't noticed it before, but now that her attention had been bought to the back tray, she could see the pile of blankets of pillows that had been packed in there along with a 6 pack of beers calling her name from the back corner. Hailey's look of concern brightened into one of love and affection almost immediately, her eyes softening as she snapped her head up to meet Jay's. "You did this?" "I did." Jay was clearly very happy with himself. "You like it?" "It's absolutely sickening." Hailey's sarcasm didn't go unnoticed by Jay who grinned smugly as he watched his girlfriend clamber up into the back of his truck. Its height momentarily posed a challenge for the woman, but it was just another challenge that she overcame as she vaulted herself inside and practically pulled him in after her.  With the mountain of blankets pulled over each of them, Hailey and Jay sat side by side as Jay held two beers in his hand, handing one off to the blonde who took a sip as soon as it was made available. Neither of them had the words to verbalise it, but they both knew this was what they needed. They both knew this was perfect. As the night grew older, Hailey found herself laying with her head on Jay's chest and a hand comfortably resting on his thigh; his hands were running through her blonde locks absentmindedly — he had always found Hailey's hair remarkably soft. The pair of them were still sipping on their beers, but the conversation had shifted to a much calmer and heartfelt topic. "I love you," Hailey had declared suddenly, though, it wasn't the first time she had uttered the three words to her boyfriend and partner. "I love you and your grand gestures, and your smile, and your laugh." "I love you. I love you and your eyes, and the way you scrunch up your nose when you find something funny, the way you're impossibly stubborn but yet incredibly reasonable." "I love you and how you make me feel okay, and how you can understand what I'm trying to say without me ever having to say it, and how you hold me at night and when I'm upset. I love you and how you showed me a million shades of colour that I had never experienced before." Jay's lips curled up into a warm smile, though his eyes showed it more. It was hard to distinguish whether or not it was the way the corners of his eyes creased or if it was the sparkle among the green that did it, but she didn't mind the not knowing. When she was with Jay, she didn't need to know anything except that she loved him and that he loved her — that was enough. It had always been enough. An exhale escaped Hailey's lips as she gazed up at the sky above them, the twinkling orbs that were even brighter away from city lights filling her vision as she studied them closely. They twinkled and shimmered beautifully — almost entrancing — Hailey could barely peel her eyes or focus away from them for more than half a second. "They're amazing, aren't they?" Hailey wasn't expecting a response, but she wasn't shocked either when she received one. "The stars?" "Yeah," she nodded her head against Jay's chest lightly. "They remind me of you, in a way." Jay chuckled with a puzzled look on his face. "They remind you of me? How?" "They're pretty. They're perfect. . They're also everywhere, just like your freckles are. Not to mention that half of them are on the brink of exploding, just like you." He poked her in the side playfully as Hailey laughed heartily in response. "It was so sweet, and then you decided to make fun of me." "Making fun of you is my only hobby, Halstead. How else am I meant to fill my time?" "I don't know! There's a whole world out there — you could take up boxing, or knitting!" "You see me sitting still for long enough to knit?" "No, that was a stupid suggestion. I should have known." Jay's chest rose and fell beneath Hailey's head as he laughed. "Since you're you, I guess I'll let you get away with it. You're both far too dangerous and far too attractive to stay mad at." Hailey only smirked as she turned her head, finally tearing her eyes away from the night sky and gazing into Jay's impossibly green eyes. "Oh yeah? Far too attractive?" "Well—" Jay shifted slightly as his hand brushed up against Hailey's bare arm beneath the blankets. "— maybe — maybe you'll have to remind me just how attractive." "Oh, I can do that." 

🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌

aaaa okay i hope this was good! i don’t know if i did it justice lmao

[the-fifth-marauder03]

PAPERWORK

Bucky x reader

Notes: Please go easy on me this is my first ever smut. I'm v v sorry if it's bad but please comment and tell me what you thought. Seriously please please please comment

Word: almost 4,000

Summary: After a long mission comes lots of paperwork. Y/n had doesn't want to do paperwork, she wants to go to her room and deal with the frustration Bucky caused. She almost makes it too, if it wasn't for Bucky insisting they do the paperwork right then. What happens when he notices her acting strange?

WARNINGS: its smut so 18+ obviously. Dirty talk, rough sex, fingering. and some other stuff so if you're uncomfortable leave.

The mission was long.

 

What was originally only supposed to be a week-long mission to collect intel went sour and turned into two weeks then three. The first days of the mission had gone smoothly, the pair had gathered what they needed and were looking forward to sleeping in their beds. But as luck would normally treat the avengers, someone had tipped off the arms dealer that Bucky and y/n were watching him and on the last day, he sent to of his goons to kidnap the two. For two weeks they tried to coax at least one of the guards into their cell but that proved impossible, until the arms dealer's son, who was much like Phil Coulson, came to aid them. Once they were supplied with weapons and a way to the exit it took y/n and Bucky a meagre hour to take down the entire operation.

When they finally reached the quinjet y/n took the time to calm down, Bucky had been killing her for three weeks. In the beginning, it was fine she could easily ignore her mounting frustrations but every time she would calm herself down he was there to build her back up. It started small. While they were doing the surveillance part of the mission he would drum his fingers on his thigh and bite his lip and if that wasn't enough to drive y/n mad, it was his constant joking. Y/n was 100% certain that if his mouth was that dirty in a causal setting then it was just plain filthy in bed. Even while they were locked in a cell he would do things that drove y/n crazy. For the first week, he would plant his feet and pull at the door with all his might giving y/n a perfect view of his physic. When his attempts would fail he would grunt and curse up a storm. The thing that was killing her the most though was being pressed against him each night. Their captor failed to provide a bed or even a blanket and Bucky being the gentleman he is, offered to share his warmth. Y/n knew she shouldn't accept the offer, she might have done something she couldn't take back. She froze her ass off for the first half of the first night while staring longingly at Bucky's back, he looked so warm and inviting. He woke up at the beginning of her chattering teeth.

 

"Y/n/n, get over. You're gonna freeze doll." He'd rolled over and opened his arms for her to lay with him.

 

"I'm ok-k-kay James. Just a little cold that's all." Her teeth chattered, proving her a liar.

 

Bucky sent her a dark glare that made her relent. She could imagine him looking at her like that in a different setting. It took every ounce of the little willpower she did have left not to whimper as his arm slid around her when she settled next to him and pulled her that much closer. She was gonna go fucking feral.

 

Needless to say, once they reached the tower and got through debriefing, y/n wanted to go to her room, take a hot shower, and have some quality time with her toys. The debriefing took hours, Steve wanted to know every detail of what went down before he finally dismissed them. Now was y/n's chance to escape before she was questioned anymore and she was going to take it. As she rocketed out of the meeting room y/n felt a cool hand grab at her wrist and turned to see Bucky shifting slightly. "We have paperwork to finish y/n/n." He said matter-of-factly.

 

"James, I'm tired, I stink, can't we just do it tomorrow?" She whined.

It was too late though, the super-soldier was already dragging her down the hallway to one of the many offices. "We should do it while the memories are still fresh." He stated firmly. His tone said not to question him so y/n didn't, she let him drag her down the hallway and into an office with papers stacked neatly on a desk with two seats. That's where they sat for the next several hours.

 

Y/n was getting more and more frustrated the longer she had to sit in that room. Due to her abilities, she also had enhanced sense, she was able to notice everything, and right now all she could focus on was Bucky. The faint smell of the cologne he had put on during the quinjet ride as well as gun powder and a smell that was distinctly Bucky was washing over her in waves. She could see the way the muscles on his flesh hand contracted as he wrote and could hear the soft whirl of the metallic one on his left. Y/n hear the rustle of his uniform-clad legs every time he shifted. She was going to die and it would be Bucky Barnes' fault. Y/n was aware that she was flushed and she was also aware that she was so wet that she could smell herself, but her senses were much better than his. After ages of y/n fidgeting around, he looked up.

 

"Y/n, are you okay?" He sounded concerned.

 

She was startled by his voice so it took her a minute to reply with a choked out, "Yeah, yeah I'm good."

 

Bucky raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly, licking his lips. Y/n shut her eyes tight and took a sharp inhale, "Really James, I'm fine."

Thankfully Bucky dropped it for the time being and they continued to work in silence. This went on for another hour and a half. She would shuffle her thighs against each other to get some friction and Bucky would glance at her and she would stop, flushing even deeper.

Ultimately, Bucky had enough. "Okay y/n/n, what the fuck is wrong?"

He was standing, looking down at her with those eyes. The very eyes she had dreams about looking up at her from in between her thighs.

 "Nothing James, just hot and tired." She waved him off looking back down at the paperwork in front of her.

 

She heard him take a step towards her, she heard him take a breath, and she heard his breath catch. She heard it all very clearly. Y/n shut her eyes hoping he would sit back down so they could just be down with this already, but he didn't. He took a deep breath through his nose and growled lowly, swaying on the spot he stood.

"Y/n/n." She wouldn't look at him.

 

"Y/n" He rarely used her first name. She still wouldn't look at him.

 

He was quiet for entirely too long, and when he spoke again he was far closer than she had anticipated, "Pretty girl."

 

Y/n whimpered before she could stop herself. That sounded so nice coming from his lips. Bucky wanted that sweet noise coming out of her mouth again, as many time as he could make it happen.

 

"Oh, babydoll if I had known," He was speaking in a low measured voice, " Is this what's been bothering you this whole time?"

 

Y/n was practically panting, Bucky had been getting closer to her while he was talking and now she could feel his breath fanning over where her catsuit opened. She stayed quiet, she wasn't sure if he was serious or not. Her lack an answer irritated Bucky, but he wouldn't touch her until he had her consent.

 

"Pretty girl if you wanted me to make you feel good all you had to do was ask me. I would love to get my hands on you. So go ahead babydoll, just say the word."

 

He waited, hovering just by her ear. "James." She just barely gasped out the word.

 

"I'm right here baby. Just say the word." He lowered his voice even more. "Just say the word, and I'll fucking ruin you."

 

"Yes." And he was on her.

 

He turned her chair around quicker than she could blink and his mouth was on her faster than she would take a breath. Y/n shoved on hand into his hair and one went to his back. Bucky's flesh hand went to the side of her throat and he paused slightly when she moaned. As he pulled back to look at her she pouted but he had something he wanted to test. He slipped his hand from the side of her neck to the front, grinning when her eyes fluttered and she craned to give him more access. "Oh, pretty girl do you like the way my hand feels wrapped around your throat?" She didn't answer, just hummed low in her throat. Having been given consent to touch her as he pleased Bucky let his irritation shine through. He applied just slightly more pressure.

"Pretty girl I asked you a question, but if you don't want to answer I guess I can go back the paperwork."

 Y/n's eyes fluttered open to reveal blown pupils. She all but moaned "Yes James, your hand feels good on my throat."

 

He growled and smirked darkly, "Okay baby tell you what, I want you to go to your room and wait for me. I'm gonna finish this paperwork. While you wait I want you to get yourself nice and ready for me, okay?" Y/n nodded and stood as he released her. He stared down at her for a moment before running his thumb across her bottom lip. She parted her lips and sucked it into her mouth nipping it slightly. He watched her for a moment before speaking again. "And don't you dare cum." Bucky felt her whine against his thumb before he released her. He watched her with a heated stare as she made her way across the room.

When she had her hand on the handle Bucky spoke again. "Oh, and pretty girl," she turned to acknowledge him, "Use the toy that you use when you think of me." Y/n flushed even more if that was possible. The toy he was referring to was her favourite one. She'd bought it directly after her first mission with Bucky after he'd kissed her with everything in him to make sure their cover wasn't blown. That kiss had left her on edge until the end of the mission when she could go to her room and handle herself. When all her other toys failed her, she figured it was time for a new one. While searching through her favourite store's online selection she came across something intriguing, Avengers-themed toys. Being an avenger herself, she was curious to what they would look like so of course y/n clicked on the folder. Some of them made her laugh. Vision's was a small bullet with a stone on the back of it that looked like the one in his head. Tony's was a vibrator that was the same colour as his suit and its power button glowed. The farther she got the more she noticed how accurately all the toys represent them all. Natasha's was a red cock ring with a small button that looked like a black widow that vibrated when it was pushed. Y/n liked hers so she ordered one of those as well. It was a nice sized red vibrator with a design that looked like dark smoke wrapping around it. The description said that it had four settings and the highest one makes anyone see stars. Bucky's made her mouth dry up. It was a vibrator and a g-spot stimulator wrapped up in one. The button to turn it on was a red star, the body was made out of a black and metallic pattern. The metallic looked strikingly similar to the metal on Bucky's arm. So she bought it and used it often, and know Bucky wanted her to use specifically that one.

After swaying in the elevator while it rose she quickly gathered herself enough to make it to and into her room without collapsing. Once inside she pulled out a small box from under her bed and opened it to reveal what she'd affectionately nicknamed winter. Before doing anything though, y/n knew she needed a shower. She stripped out of her catsuit and turned on the shower that heated to a preset temperature, thanks to Tony's constant instalment of new tech.  As y/n scrubbed herself clean her thoughts drifted Bucky, she was obviously attracted to him, but what if he didn't want more. She pushed these disconcerting thoughts aside and finished her shower, she needed relief. She quickly towelled herself off and headed back into her bedroom. As she settled into a comfortable position she grabbed winter and turned it on. Y/n started at her neck and worked her way down, she was painful turned on so it wouldn't take long for her to get herself ready. Once she reached her cunt she slowly ran the toy up and down to collect some of her wetness. The vibrations made her hum, it already felt so good and she'd barely started. Y/n brought the toy up to her clit and ran slow circles on the nub. Once she felt wet enough, y/n slowly worked the toy into herself, it felt good but she was sure Bucky would feel better. She started slow again, working herself up before getting progressively faster. Little whimpers and small moans were flowing from her now as she got closer to the edge.

 "James"  She could her how breathless she sounded but she didn't care. She'd been a live wire for three weeks every one of her nerves was on fire. As she felt herself on the very line on falling, y/n pulled the toy away out and away. She had her head thrown back so she didn't see Bucky leaning against a wall across from her. Y/n gave herself a minute to come down, but she was much more sensitive now. Her moans were falling much more freely now and it didn't take her long to get close again. Bucky noticed the closer she got the more she said his name. By the time she pulled the toy away from herself again y/n was practically chanting "James"

He watched calm down again before she moved the toy back to her clit. He smiled, y/m had listened to him. He silently observed her for another minute before stepping up to her bed and taking the toy from her hands. Y/n's eyes shot open and she looked up to she Bucky examining the vibrator. Bucky slowly smirked as he looked over its design.

" Pretty girl, is this themed after me?" His eyes were twinkling dangerously.

Y/n nodded, lust was so thick in her throat she was having trouble speaking.

Bucky looked like a cat who caught a canary while he lowered the toy to her clit. She withered on the bed as he applied pressure. "How long babydoll?" He quirked his brow.

"How long w-what, James?" she sounded breathless.

"How long have you wanted me to take that sweet little pussy and make it mine?" He growled as he slipped the toy inside of her, moving at an unrushed pace. Her brain was rapidly trying to keep up, between his motions and his words it was hard to place any exact time.

When she didn't answer he pushed the vibrator deeper, "Answer me, pretty girl."

She scrambled for purchase, "S-s-since our first mission together. When we had to save our cover by making out and that night you gave me some hickeys for good measure." Y/n words were jumbled and rushed.

Bucky smiled precariously and when he started talking y/n's eyes rolled back in her head. "Oh baby, I didn't give you those hickeys for good measure. I wanted to mark you up. You sounded so pretty while I did it too, trying to suppress those little sounds. God, I just wanted to lift your dress and have you sit on my cock while I did. Wanted to have you stuffed full of me as I marked you as mine." His Brooklyn accent was shining through. "Thought about it some many times baby, on so many missions, sparring too. That day when you wrapped your thighs around my head you smelled so good, wondered what you would do if I had just pulled you down on my face and devoured you through those tight fucking pants." His hand was moving the toy mercilessly now, and y/n was so close she could taste it. " All I wanted to do when you had to go on that date undercover was show him who you belong to. Wanted to fuck right on the table. Make you scream my name as you came. Sometimes when I got off I would think about fucking your face, I bet you would take me so well too. You'd look so pretty with my cock down your throat."

Y/n had been right his mouth was filthy in bed. With one last flick of his wrist, y/n came, hard. She was still shaking when he pulled the toy away and leaned down to kiss her. It didn't start sweet or innocent, as soon as Bucky's lips pressed against hers he took control, and she let him. He nips at her bottom lip then smoothed his tongue over it to ease the sting. He did this twice more before pulling back and laying on the bed beside her. Before she had the chance to question hin he spoke, "I want you to sit on my face and let me fuck you with my tongue until you cum."

Y/n didn't have to be told twice. Once she had both legs on either side of his head she tried to slowly lower herself but Bucky wasn't having it. He grabbed her thighs pulled her hard against his mouth. He shattered any expectations she had. He was relentless, his licks were even and broad as he worked her juices into his mouth. It seemed the more he tasted the rough he became, which was fine by Y/n, that's the way she liked it. She felt him growl against her when he finally pushed his tongue into her, truly tasting her. The sound reverberated through her and she couldn't the near scream that tumbled from her bruised lips. When she clenched around his tongue he knew she was close so he doubled his effort. Bucky sealed his entire mouth on y/n's cunt and sucked harshly. She came with a moan of his name.

He let her pull back and sit back on his chest as she calmed down. When she felt the material of his tactical shirt under her she frowned. "James."

He hummed and dragged his eyes from where she was still glistening to her eyes, "Yes, doll?"

"You are wearing far too many fucking clothes." Y/n stated as she rolled off of him.

"Well, I can certainly fix that." He rose from the bed and shucked off his clothes in a matter of seconds. Y/n's eyes were everywhere at once: his arms, his chest, his thighs that she'd like to ride into the sunset. When they landed on his large member resting on his stomach, looking an angry shade of red,  her mouth watered.

"Pretty girl, as much as I'd love to have those pretty lips wrapped around me I need to be inside that pretty pink pussy immediately."

"How do you want me, James?" She was asking what his preference was.

He chuckled darkly then growled "Hands and fucking knees babydoll."

She whimpered then snapped into action. Y/n flipped over and raised with her back to him. "See pretty girl, I knew you'd look good like this." He praised her as he climbed onto the bed behind her. He ran the tip of his cock through her folds, collecting her wetness.

"Please." It was short and desperate. Exactly what Bucky wanted.

 "Please what, pretty girl?" He was teasing and she knew it.

"Please James, fuck me." She whined.

Bucky deemed it acceptable and slowly slid in, setting a shallow pace. He was still teasing.

"Faster." She was trying to rock her hips back into him but he had a steady hold on her hips holding her still.

"beg for it." It was clear what he wanted. Bucky wanted her desperate for him and ONLY him, not that it was much work.

And y/n begged, "Please James, fuck me faster. Please please, please. I'll do anything. Just make me yours, please." It was starting to get incoherent. Bucky was satisfied so he picked up the pace, slowly working his way up to slam into her. Skin slapping, his grunts, and her moans were the only noises filling the room. bucky twisted a hand into y/n's hair and pulled her up to his chest. He started whispering absolute filth in her ear as he fucked her deeply.

"That's right baby moan for me. You like me fucking your cunt don't you babydoll? You like the way I feel taking what I want from you? You gonna let me fuck you like this from now on aren't you baby?" His had moved from her hair to her throat. "You're gonna let me fuck you like this cause you're mine now right pretty girl? This cunt is mine now, only mine no one else's."

She could only let out incoherent "Yesses" as she got closer and closer but Bucky knew she liked it, he could feel her clenching around him. His other hand slipped down to her clit as he kept talking.  "You gonna give me what I want pretty girl? Is my girl gonna cum all over my cock? I can feel ya squeezin me, baby. Go ahead baby, cum for me."

That was the final push that landed y/n right in the middle of the strongest orgasm she had ever had. When he felt her clamp down on him he followed suit, shouting her name ad he pushes in as far as he can go. After they ride out their aftershocks they collapse beside each other. Y/n closed her eyes and floated between conscientious and sleep until she felt Bucky leave the bed. She was sure he had left so she rolled over to sleep until she is startled by and cool hand and calm voice.

"Pretty girl, you have to roll over and open your legs so I can clean you up then we can sleep, okay baby?" She rolled just enough for Bucky to slip a warm washcloth in between her legs and stroke gently, cleaning her.  When he was down he threw the cloth into her hamper before slowly working her under the covers. After she was under them he slid in next her and pulled her to him.

"James?" she sounded sleepy.

"Yes, doll?"

"What does this make us?" She was timid now, holding her breath for his response.

"Well, I was hoping we could be a couple." He smiled against her hair.

Y/n lets out a relieved breath, "That sounds nice James."

"Shh, we'll talk in the morning, go to sleep pretty girl."  He was grinning now.

"I love you." It slipped so easily from her lips as she drifted to sleep. Bucky wasn't even sure she had meant to say but he said it back none the less and he meant it

[buckyskorpion]

“i thought you’d like this” please ?💕 i’m very excited for the fourth part of your story and i love your blog!

sorry this took so long!! hope you enjoy this, it’s a bit of fun in these not so fun times 

Nat comes into the boardroom with a tiny smirk on her face. You share a glance with Bucky - this can’t be good.

“I thought you’d like this,” Nat announces, throwing herself into the chair next to you and dumping her legs in your lap, effectively pinning you down. She clears her throat theatrically and pulls out her phone, reads, “Former Winter Soldier and current Avenger James Barnes spotted taking newest recruit on a date in Central Park.”

Bucky starts coughing so violently you’re worried he’s going to pop a plate in his new arm. You, on the other hand, feel the colour drain from your face almost immediately. A date?

Nat is grinning, now, which is somehow even more terrifying than when she’s mad. Bucky has to stand and grab some water from the cooler in the corner, leaning on the wall for support. Good to know the concept of hypothetically going on a date with you is so horrifying to him. You have to say something, the silence is stretching on and it’s so awkward and tense you might explode. Maybe that’s a good thing. Then you’d never have to meet Bucky’s eyes ever again.

“Where did you get this from?” you ask Nat hoarsely, swallowing past the way your voice cracks. Her eyes are sparkling, she’s so happy - this isn’t natural. You make grabby hands for her phone and, reluctantly, she hands it over.

There are photos attached to the article, because of course there are. It’s a TMZ release (who else) and the photos are disturbingly high-quality. It was the morning after your last mission, when you’d woken up aching all over and tired in a way not even a good nights sleep could fix but Bucky was knocking at your door asking if you wanted to go for a walk with him. Of course you said yes, even if it felt like torture to drag yourself from bed. It was Bucky — you would always say yes.

He bought you coffee and you walked around Central Park in mostly silence. There wasn’t a lot to say, it was just nice to be quiet in each other’s company after the chaos of the mission. Fall was starting so it was getting cold, but not unbearably so, and not enough for the trees to lose all their green. It was beautiful - you hadn’t seen something so beautiful in a while. It was like Bucky knew it was what you needed, and you’d turned to softly thank him only to find him already look at you.

This is what the camera had caught, the photo plastered on Nat’s phone with the offending article. You, smiling up at him with the most awful, fond look on your face you wish you could burn and Bucky, head bent towards you, also smiling. His face matches yours. Since when? You were there, you remember this moment but you don’t remember Bucky looking at you like that. He couldn’t. Could he?

“Well,” Nay says pointedly, asking for her phone back with a hand held out towards you. You pass it over, fingers numb, mind going a mile a minute. “Good to know TMZ had to ask your girl out for you, Barnes. Pathetic, honestly.”

“What?” This was officially too much. Bucky is looking at Nat like he wants to actually tear her vocal chords out of her throat and she’s still smiling, having the time of her life, and you want to scream. So you do, essentially. You slam your hand on the table and cry, “Can someone please explain what the fuck is going on? Who’s girl where?”

“Calm down before you hurt yourself,” Nat says, cutting you a side eye. You blush, immediately embarrassed by your theatrics but honestly, who could blame you? TMZ has a lot to answer for. With a raised eyebrow towards Bucky, Natasha says, “Well? She’s asking you a question.”

“Can you give us a moment, Natasha?” Bucky grinds out, a scarier look on his face than even the Winter Soldier could muster. Nat laughs, head thrown back, like this is the funniest thing in the world.

“Oh no,” she says, still somewhat giggling. “I’m not missing this for the world.”

Bucky’s sigh could’ve shaken the walls of the boardroom. You were supposed to be having a mission debriefing for crying out loud, but now you’re here, absolutely confused to hell, staring at Bucky hoping for some enlightenment but he’s just chewing his lip and avoiding your eyes. TMZ thinks you went on a date with Bucky when you know damn well that only happens in your dreams, and Nat is somehow involved, and Bucky is being evasive, and no one is filling you in yet. Maybe this is a dream of yours, morphing into a nightmare as the silence ticks by.

“Honestly!” Nat exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. “You are both useless! (Y/n), what did you tell me the other day after training? ‘Bucky could never like me back, we’re just friends!’ My ass!”

Oh no, this isn’t happening. This is definitely a nightmare now. But Nat isn’t done, ignoring the strangled noise you make and how you slump down in an attempt to hide.

“And you,” Nat says, eyes narrowing at Bucky while she points a finger, “If you ask me one more time for advice on what to do about your schoolboy feelings for (y/n), I will physically remove your spleen and enjoy it.”

With that, Nat finally removes her feet from your lap and storms from the room, letting the door slam shut behind her. The silence is a physical thing, fogging up the room and choking you out from the inside. You stare at the wood grain of the table, reeling from Nat’s outburst and the absolute wasteland that is your pride. You never want to look at Bucky again, the shame is too much. But he’s walking over to you now, pulling out the chair next to you and sitting so you’re between the ‘v’ of his legs, so close you can feel his supersoldier body heat radiating over you. Or maybe that’s just your burning cheeks from the sheer embarrassment of the situation Nat has put you in.

“Did you really say that to Nat?” Bucky asks, soft but the sound still makes you flinch.

“I’m sorry,” you say, avoiding his gaze that’s burning into the side of your face, “I shouldn’t hav said that, it’s not fair to put you in this situation and you probably think I’m some kind of creep-“

“(Y/n),” Bucky says, and his tone makes it almost sound like he’s laughing. That can’t be right. And then he puts his hand on your neck, urging you to look up and over at him - you’re powerless to resist the warmth of his skin and the rough slide of his palm as he shifts to cup the back of your head. You look at him, finally, to find him smiling at you in the same way from the TMZ photo.

“Bucky?” You’re unsure what he’s doing, what’s going on, but you can’t formulate coherent sentences at the moment so you settle for that. He laughs, then draws you forward and thunks his forehead against yours. You close your eyes breath him in, the only thing you’re capable of doing when your mind is screaming what the fuck is going on?

“I can’t believe you thought I’d never feel that way about you,” Bucky says, hushed. You find yourself blushing again, squirming in his grip to pull away but he doesn’t let you. Damn super strength.

“Feel what way?” you ask, defensive, “You mean as completely platonic friends and coworkers?”

“You’re a brat,” Bucky huffs, but when you peek an eye open you can see he’s smiling. He’s still holding you close, and you can’t find in you to pull way even as you’re trying to distance yourself verbally. He shakes his had against yours and says, “I can’t believe it because that’s what I’ve been sayin’ about you this whole time.”

“Wait, what?” you ask. Now you’re lost. Bucky can’t be saying what you think he’s saying - he can’t.

“Nat’s right, we really are useless,” Bucky laughs, and then he pulls away. You try not to feel disappoint but it hits you in the gut anyway - only for a moment. Bucky doesn’t go very far, just enough to physically turn your chair so you’re facing him, in between his legs, and holds your face in his palms so he has to look at you. It’s a lot of manhandling and your head is spinning a bit. Why does he have to be so sexy?

Looking at you dead in the eye, Bucky says, “I don’t need TMZ to do this for me. I love you, (Y/n), I think I have from the moment I met you. I’m sorry for being a stupid, scared punk - it’s never gonna happen again.”

And then he kisses you, pulling you into his chest hard enough you have to hold onto his shoulders to stop yourself from toppling over. You muffle a yelp into his mouth but it’s quickly lost in a moan as he fists your hair and holds you close, kissing you rough and bruising like you always imagined it would be. It’s not until you think you might be seeing stars from how lightheaded you are that you pull away, breathing heavy and mouth probably just as swollen as Bucky’s looks. It’s a hot look. You can’t help but kiss him again, quick, just for looking like that.

“I think it will happen again,” you say, tilting your head at him as Bucky’s brow furrows. He looks upset, until you add, “I dunno how you’re gonna stop being a stupid punk, that’s practically in your DNA.”

“Oh, now you’re in for it,” Bucky growls, and your laughter turns into a squeal as he stands up and throws you over his shoulder, heading out of the boardroom with you pounding on his back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Put me down, Bucky!” you cry, practically in tears from how hard you’re laughing and how difficult it is to breath with a giant metal shoulder digging into your stomach. Bucky puts you down gently, which belies the angry look on his face as he stares down at you. You grin, reaching up to take his stubbled cheek in your palm, and you know he’s just playing but you still need to say, “You’re a stupid punk, but you’re my stupid punk and I love you.”

“Romantic,” Bucky says flatly, but you barely have time to roll your eyes before he’s kissing you again. You’re probably the first person in history to think, thank god for TMZ.

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

It's 2007 and somehow, miraculously, Supernatural survives yet another rocky (?) season of mediocre ratings to come back for a third season, or at least, half season, but that season starts out with a real bang! Like, just a real solid trio of an opener for season three. It reminds me of all the things I love about SPN and also it reminds us of all the things that frustrate the hell out of me on SPN. So where did we leave things off?

First up, there’s Dean, who sold his soul to the devil in order to bring Sam back from the dead. Sam, you’ll remember, was part of some overly complicated ponzi scheme to find the perfect vessel to open a door - yep, open a door - and lost to Aldous Hodge who just straight up murders Sam in the season finale. So Dean get’s Sammy back, but in exchange, he’s only got one year left before he permanently moves down south. Oh! And even though they got Sam back and Sam kills Aldous Hodge (RIP pal), they neglected to keep the door from opening. The door to Hell, that is, and now they’ve allowed a shiz ton of demons out to freely roam the earth. Way to go, boys, you lost again! They are two for two on these season finales guys!

OH but they DO kill the Yellow Eyed Demon, so that’s a plus, but not before he plants the most perfect seed of doubt in Dean’s mind - “How do you know what you brought back is all Sammy?” Like, ugh, UGH, ugh!!!! What a way to drive the knife in deeper! What a way to make the heart of this show slowly start to crumble! C’est Magnifique!! *chef's kissy fingers*

So with all that emotional baggage weighing us down, how do we start season 3? How else - with a threesome of course! And also some technicolor grading, it’s wild guys.

Oh boy guys, let’s talk about this opener for a hot sec. I got into it a little bit last season, but as much as I love Dean, you HAVE to admit that that boy is gross. Just like...he’s a little gross. I’m also old enough now to see exactly how many red flags he’s raising through the last 45 episodes. Like, sorry Little Me, but he is not boyfriend material. Not to mention that all this debauchery is 1,000% him distracting himself from the consequences of his own actions, but we’ll get into that later.

Meanwhile, Sam is doing something constructive and trying to figure out how to reverse the curse and save Dean’s soul. And here we have the culmination of two seasons worth of character development - faced with the imminent demise of Dean Samuel Winchester, Sam tries to step up and take care of his brother for once in his life; Dean parties like it’s 1999. There were two things I thought of during this episode - 1) isn’t this not unlike the sort of behavior you see in suicidal people who have finally decided to take their own life? Which is just, like, further held up by the fact that Dean’s big monologue at the end literally has the line “Truth is I’m tired, Sam. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel.” and like...dude, you are NOT ok! Why isn't??? ANYONE??? ADDRESSING THIS????? And 2) Dean is sharing a lot of similarities with the demons in this episode.

Because MEANwhile, there’s demons! So many demons! Specifically, the Seven Deadly Sins ones, but also, spoiler alert, Ruby, who is gettin’ reeeeealll into that ketchup.

All these baddies just really taking advantage of their time topside cuz Hell is, as they so artfully put it, it’s like Hell, so they’re just livin’ it up while they still can ~almost like foreshadowing or something~?!?!?

Real talk though, it being a real long time since I’ve watched this season, it’s these kinds of details that I’m impressed with this time around. There is so much character work that goes into this show and it’s something I definitely connected with the first time around, but not on conscious level. Now I can look at it through time and experience and articulate what I’m seeing, which makes this re-watch infinitely more enjoyable.

Episode 1 of this season continues what they started in season 2 and just keeps building out that Hunter Community. Like, there really is a whole Community out there that keeps in contact and works together and makes sure everyone’s up to date on the latest hot goss, and it all makes John Winchester come off like a real creepy splinter cell lone gunman type. And that in turn makes the Winchester sons look like total, unprofessional boneheads who managed to open a portal to Hell. “UGH Great Jorb Guys, but can we blame them? They’re John’s kids,” is a conversation between hunters that I am headcannoning, but also 100% support.

Honestly, I love the idea of the Winchesters being just these real, like, b-grade, Walmart Brand Hunters that other Hunters are just SO done with. We kind of see a little bit of that with Isaac and Tamara, but by the end of the episode, the Winchesters prove that they’re...better Hunters? I hope somewhere in the next 12 seasons I get an episode that is told from another Hunter’s POV who is legitimately better/more emotionally balanced than the Winchesters and the whole episode is them just, like, cleaning up a bunch of Winchester messes like, SONuvabitch, these two ASSholes. I think we see a fair amount of episodes from the POV of people who are less qualified than the Winchesters who end up being mentored by them, but I’d be stoked for them to run into just a group of people who hate them for totally legitimate, professional vs amature reasons.

Bobby does not count because Bobby signed up to be their Dad and so he agreed to take care of their messes when he took that job.

And then we get to “The Kids Are Alright” which showcases one of my fav changes for this season - BRIGHTLY! LIT! HIGH! SATURATION!!!! And of course, by fav, I mean, Most Hilarious.

I do walk a fine line on this one truth be told. Like, season 1 was definitely going for A Look. It’s super gritty and high contrasty and stylized. Now, I got what they were going for but I wasn’t always crazy about it, mostly because the quality on the DVD’s was terrible. Quick tip for everyone: in order to get 2+ hours worth of content on a DVD, you have to compress the final edit of the program to a pretty small bitrate. When we drop videos onto DVD’s at my work (it isn’t often, thank goodness), the discs themselves only hold, like, 2GB worth of content and that is NOT A LOT when it comes to video files. The more compressed a video file is, the less detail you’re gonna get in the visuals. Watching episodes on Netflix (where everything’s probably at a higher bitrate and therefore is a better quality visual), it’s not bad, but on my DVDs, the compression is so heavy that we get SUPER hot highlights and SUPER crunchy shadows - what a lot of people would called “crushed blacks” because you’ve lost all the detail in the shadows and you’re left with a grainy, noisy, black hole on the screen. Like I lost so much detail in the pilot episode guys, I could not make out this guy’s face.

A rough approximation of my DVD quality. Still recommend it over Netflix for the Accurate Soundtrack tho.

Season 2 SPN toned that Look down a lot, like, a lot a lot. Enough that you still got the general vibe they were going for but not enough that you couldn’t make out faces anymore. But through this whole process, the CW execs kept pushing for the show to look lighter, more colorful, less film noir more...well, CW. And in season 3 it finally happened!!!

I get what those execs were going for, but also, I feel like the colorists on these first few episodes just REALLY went wild out of spite. Lookit this shot from “Magnificent Seven” right before Envy causes some rando innocent bystander to beat a girl to death for her shoes -

GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN!!!! I WONDER WHICH SIN THIS GUY IS????

Then in “The Kids Are Alright” the birthday party looks like everything is coated in day-glow neon.

The Winchester Bros look like they just got back from 3 weeks in Aruba - LOOK at the saturation levels in these skin tones! LOOK AT THEM!!

My screencap ability aside, only in SPN can a cemetery at night have brighter lighting than a diner in the middle of the afternoon.

This is definitely a thing I will be tracking the rest of the season because I have a distinct memory of a future episode where the brothers have been magically gifted completely different lives where they were never Hunters, they know nothing of Hunting, and they’re completely normal until the end when everything gets snapped back and the episode literally changes colors. V. Excited to see just how saturated this season stays through the end.

But maybe more importantly in “The Kids Are Alright” we learn that Dean does NOT, in fact, have a son. Not that he would be a good father...well...maybe? I mean, this Dean, this season 3, definitely-suicidal, completely-reckless, can’t-keep-it-together Dean, is not good Dad material. Later seasons Dean? Probably fine? Earlier seasons Dean might ALSO be fine? And if he’d found out that Ben was his legitimate kid, it could have made a WORLD of difference, who knows. I know he ultimately does become father-like to Ben and that gives me a lot of feelings. But this Dean is not in a good place to take care of anyone, including himself and really, someone ought to do something about that.

I gotta say, this is an actual bummer. I can’t remember if, in the later seasons, they do any clarifying on this or not, but I am legitimately bummed that Ben is not Dean’s kid and that as far as we know, Dean has no natural children floating around out there with surly attitudes and soft hearts. Dean’s motivation from Day 1 has always been family and despite what comments he may make in early seasons, Dean’s secret desire is to have the wife and the kids and the dog and the white picket fence. And honestly, we’re only 3 seasons in and I just want Dean to have nice things!!

And then guys, we come to “Bad Day at Black Rock,” and I just...WHAT a masterpiece. I had almost NO memory of ever watching this episode before and I don't understand why. What a glorious masterpiece this episode is. Let’s make a list -

More Hunters™, who should be really annoying but were actually kinda charming in a Marx Brothers kind of way

Gordon’s in jail, where he belongs, but also is masterminding a coup against the Winchesters which is A+ spooky stuff

Slapstick comedy that I didn’t know I was missing from my life

Bela F*cking Talbot

Guys, I think this is my fav episode so far purely because I felt, while watching it, that the last 10 years of my life were not in vain and that I had in fact grown as a human person. I remembered hating Bela Talbot. Like, I DID. NOT. LIKE. HER. To the point that I questioned if her British accent was even real. It is, her mother is from the UK and she lived there for a time, but like, honestly, the audacity of Little Me.

This time around? Oh she’s defs my new fav. Just everything about her is like, A+, Great Job, Why-Did-We-Cancel-Her??? Like, oh yeah, probably because somewhere in here they try to shoehorn a romantic side plot with Dean. I don’t actually mind rioting over shoehorned romance, but also, if they’d let this play out for a season or two and then got the two of them to bone? I’m on board. I’m 100% on board.

Maybe it’s just that she is unapologetically out for herself, maybe it’s the fact that she is definitely a match for the Winchesters in a non-murdery way, probably it is both of those things. She's smart, she’s crooked, she has impeccable taste, she’s honestly a helluva lot of fun and I am so excited to see more of her and so BUMMED that she will not make it past this season.

Despite the fact that I absolutely adore all three of these episodes, they also bring up the problem that I was starting to see in season 2 - WHO is this show about? Isn’t it supposed to be about the Brothers as a whole? But the majority of these first three lean pretty heavily on Dean’s emotional arc. Granted, it makes sense. I mean, of COURSE Dean’s demon deal is gonna be the BIG thing in a season where he is literally staring down the barrel, but knowing that there’s a side plot about Is Sam Evil?? seems like...something we should really explore more? I believe it comes up in season 4, or at least, Sam’s demon-blood powers become a bigger deal in season 4, but I would have enjoyed seeing Sam have a more active stake in this season. I can see planting some weird new ticks being planted for Alive-Again Sam that just get weirder and darker and then a mid-season finale or a run up episode to the end of the season where Dean (finally) decides he needs to stop his demon deal because he needs to stick around so he can keep Sam from going completely off the rails. As much as I love Dean 5ever, I do think the show works best when the emotional weight of the season is distributed equally is all. And to be fair to the writers this season, there could have been a bigger plan for something like that but they ran out of time - their season was cut by about a third due to the Writer’s Strike.

Still, all in all, a solid opening to the third season. I want to say that these episodes feel like Classic SPN, but then I remember that this is season three out of fifteen. These ARE Classic SPN. Mostly self contained with enough emotional drama to remind us of the overarching plot. Maybe a little heavy on the emotional drama, but Dean’s only got a year to live and the show’s only got 16 episodes to resolve that crisis, so it’s fine.

[96harmony96]

Chapter 4 part 2

I threw myself into clubbing like it was going out of style. Cary and I bounced all over downtown clubs from Tribeca to the East Village, wasting stupid money on cover charges and having a fabulous time. I danced until my feet felt like they were going to fall off, but I toughed it out until Cary complained about his heeled boots first.

We’d just stumbled out of a techno-pop club with a plan to buy me flip-flops at a nearby Walgreens when we ran across a hawker promoting a lounge a few blocks away.

“Great place to get off your feet for a while,” he said, without the usual flashy smile or exaggerated hype most of the hawkers employed. His clothes—black jeans and turtleneck—were more upscale, which intrigued me. And he didn’t have fliers or postcards. What he handed me was a business card made from papyrus paper and printed with a gilded font that caught the light of the electric signage around us. I made a mental note to hang on to it as a great piece of print advertising.

A stream of quickly moving pedestrians flowed around us. Cary squinted down at the lettering, having a few more drinks in him than I had. “Looks swank.”

“Show them that card,” the hawker urged. “You’ll skip the cover.”

“Sweet.” Cary linked arms with me and dragged me along. “Let’s go. You might find a quality guy in a swanky joint.”

My feet were seriously killing me by the time we found the place, but I quit bitching when I saw the charming entrance. The line to get in was long, extending down the street and around the corner. Amy Winehouse’s soulful voice drifted out of the open door, as did well-dressed customers who exited with big smiles.

True to the hawker’s word, the business card was a magic key that granted us immediate and free entrance. A gorgeous hostess led us upstairs to a quieter VIP bar that overlooked the stage and dance floor below. We were shown to a small seating area by the balcony and settled at a table hugged by two half-moon velvet sofas. shepropped a beverage menu in the center and said, “Your drinks are on the house. Enjoy your evening.”

“Wow.” Cary whistled. “We scored.”

“I think that hawker recognized you from an ad.”

“Wouldn’t that rock?” He grinned. “God, it’s a great night. Hanging out with my best girl and crushing on a new hunk in my life.”

“Oh?”

“I think I’ve decided to see where things go with Trey.”

That made me happy. It felt like I’d been waiting forever for him to find someone who’d treat him right. “Has he asked you out yet?”

“No, but I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t want to.” He shrugged and smoothed his artfully ripped T-shirt. Paired with black leather pants and spiked wristlets, he looked sexy and wild. “I just think he’s trying to figure out the situation with you first. He wigged when I told him I lived with a woman and that I’d moved across the country to be with you. He’s worried I might be bi-curious and secretly hung up on you. That’s why I wanted you two to meet today, so he could see how you and I are together.”

“I’m sorry, Cary. I’ll try to put him at ease about it.”

“It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it. It’ll work out if it’s supposed to.”

His assurances didn’t make me feel better. I tried to think if there was a way I could help.

Two guys stopped by our table. “Okay if we join you?” the taller one asked.

I glanced at Cary, and then back at the guys. They looked like brothers and they were very attractive. Both were smiling and confident, their stances loose and easy.

I was about to say, Sure, when a warm hand settled on my bare shoulder and squeezed firmly. “This one’s taken.”

Across from me, Cary gaped as Lauren Jauregui rounded the sofa and extended her hand to him. “Taylor. Lauren Jauregui.”

“Cary Taylor.” He shook Lauren’s hand with a wide smile. “But you knew that. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I could’ve killed him. I seriously thought about it.

“Good to know.” Lauren settled on the seat beside me, her arm draped behind me so that her fingertips could brush casually and possessively up and down my arm. “Maybe there’s hope for me yet.”

Twisting at the waist, I faced her and whispered fiercely, “What are you doing?”

she shot me a hard glance. “Whatever it takes.”

“I’m going to dance.” Cary stood with a mischievous grin. “Be back in a bit.”

Ignoring my pleading glance, my best friend blew me a kiss and the guys followed him. I watched them all go, my heart racing. After another minute, ignoring Lauren became ridiculous, as well as impossible.

My gaze slid over her. shewore dress slacks in graphite gray and a black V-neck sweater, the overall effect being one of careless sophistication. I loved the look on her and was attracted to the softness it gave her, even though I knew it was only an illusion. she was a hard woman in a lot of ways.

I took a deep breath, feeling like I needed to make an effort to socialize with her. After all, wasn’t that my big complaint? That she wanted to skip past the getting-to-know-you stage and jump straight into bed?

“You look…” I paused. Fantastic. Wonderful. Amazing. So damn sexy…In the end, I went with the lame, “I like the way you look.”

Her brow arched. “Ah, something you like about me. Is that a general like of the overall package? Or just the clothes? Only the sweater? Or maybe it’s the pants?”

The edge to her tone rubbed me the wrong way. “And if I say it’s just the sweater?”

“I’ll buy a dozen and wear them every damn day.”

“That would be a shame.”

“You don’t like the sweater?” she was pissy, her words coming clipped and fast.

My hands flexed restlessly in my lap. “I love the sweater, but I also like the suits.”

she stared at me a minute, and then nodded. “How was your date with B.O.B.?”

Oh hell. I looked away. It was a lot easier talking about masturbation over the phone. Doing it while squirming under that piercing green stare was mortifying. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

she brushed the backs of her fingers over my cheek and murmured, “You’re blushing.”

I heard the amusement in her voice and swiftly changed topics. “Do you come here often?”

Shit. Where did that clichéd line come from?

Her hand dropped to my lap and caught one of mine, her fingers curling into my palm. “When necessary.”

A quick stab of jealousy made me stiffen. I glared at her, even though I was mad at myself for caring either way. “What does that mean? When you’re on the prowl?”

Lauren’s mouth curved into a genuine smile that hit me hard. “When expensive decisions need to be made. I own this club, Camila.”

Of course shedid. Jeez.

A pretty waitress set two pinkish-colored iced drinks in square tumblers on the table. she looked at Lauren and gave her a flirtatious smile. “Here you go, Miss. Jauregui. Two Stoli Elites and cranberry. Can I get you anything else?”

“That’ll be all for now. Thanks.”

I could totally see that she wanted to get on the pre approved list and I bristled at that; then I was distracted by what we’d been served. It was my beverage of choice when clubbing and what I’d been drinking all night. My nerves tingled. I watched her take a drink, swirl it around in her mouth like a fine wine, and then swallow it. The working of her throat made me hot, but that was nothing compared to what the intensity of her stare did to me.

“Not bad,” she murmured. “Tell me if we made it right.”

she kissed me. she moved on fast, but I saw it coming and didn’t turn away. Her mouth was cold and flavored with alcohol-laced cranberry. Delicious. All the chaotic emotion and energy that had been writhing around inside me abruptly became too much to contain. I shoved a hand in her glorious hair and clenched it tight, holding her still as I sucked on her tongue. Her groan was the most erotic sound I’d ever heard, making the flesh between my legs tighten viciously.

Shocked by the fury of my reaction, I wrenched away, gasping.

Lauren followed, nuzzling the side of my face, her lips brushing over my ear. she was breathing hard, too, and the sound of the ice in her tumbler clinking against the glass skittered across my inflamed senses.

“I need to be inside you, Camila,” she whispered roughly. “I’m aching for you.”

My gaze fell to my drink on the table, my thoughts swirling around in my head, a clusterfuck of impressions and recollections and confusion. “How did you know?”

Her tongue traced the shell of my ear and I shivered. It felt like every cell in my body was straining toward her. Resisting her took an impossible amount of energy, draining me and making me feel tired.

“Know what?” she asked.

“What I like to drink? What Cary’s name is?”

she inhaled deeply, and then pulled away. Setting her drink down, she shifted on the sofa and drew a knee up onto the cushion between us so that she faced me directly. Her arm once again draped over the sofa back, her fingertips drawing circles on the curve of my shoulder. “You visited another of my clubs earlier. Your credit card popped and your drinks were recorded. And Cary Taylor is listed on the rental agreement for your apartment.”

The room spun. No way…My cell phone. My credit card. My fucking apartment. I couldn’t breathe. Between my mother and Lauren, I felt claustrophobic.

“Camila. Jesus. You’re white as a ghost.” sheshoved a glass into my hand. “Drink.”

It was the Stoli and cranberry. I pounded it, draining the tumbler. My stomach churned for a moment, then settled. “You own the building I live in?” I gasped.

“Oddly enough, yes.” she moved to sit on the table, facing me, her legs on either side of mine. she took my glass and set it aside; then warmed my chilled hands with her.

“Are you crazy, Lauren?”

Her mouth thinned. “Is that a serious question?”

“Yes. Yes, it is. My mom stalks me, too, and she sees a shrink. Do you have a shrink?”

“Not presently, but you’re driving me crazy enough to make that a possibility.”

“So this behavior isn’t normal for you?” My heart was pounding. I could hear the blood rushing past my eardrums. “Or is it?”

she shoved a hand through her hair, restoring order to the strands I’d mussed when we’d kissed. “I accessed information you voluntarily made available to me.”

“Not to you! Not for what you used it for! That has to violate some kind of privacy law.” I stared at her, more confused than ever. “Why would you do that?”

shehad the grace to look disgruntled at least. “So I can figure you out, damn it.”

“Why don’t you just ask me, Lauren? Is that so fucking hard for people to do nowadays?”

“It is with you.” she grabbed her drink off the table and tossed back most of it. “I can’t get you alone for more than a few minutes at a time.”

“Because the only thing you want to talk about is what you have to do to get laid!”

“Christ, Camila,” she hissed, squeezing my hand. “Keep your voice down!”

I studied her, taking in every line and plane of her face. Unfortunately, cataloging the details didn’t lessen my awe even a tiny bit. I was beginning to suspect I’d never get over being dazzled by his looks.

And I wasn’t alone; I’d seen how other women reacted around her. And she was crazy rich, which made even old, bald, and paunchy guys attractive. It was no wonder she was used to snapping her fingers and scoring an orgasm.

Her gaze darted over my face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m thinking.”

“About what?” Her jaw tightened. “And I’m warning you, if you say anything about orifices, preapprovals, or seminal emissions, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

That almost made me smile. “I want to understand a few things, because I think it’s possible I’m not giving you enough credit.”

“I’d like to understand a few things myself,” she muttered.

“I’m guessing the ‘I want to fuck you’ approach has a high success rate for you.”

Lauren’s face smoothed into unreadable impassivity. “I’m not touching that one, Camila.”

“Okay. You want to figure out what it’s going to take to get me into bed. Is that why you’re here in this club right now? Because of me? And don’t say what you think I want to hear.”

Her gaze was clear and steady. “I’m here for you, yes. I arranged it.”

Suddenly the threads the street hawker had been wearing made sense. We’d been hustled by someone on Cross Industries payroll. “Did you figure that getting me here would get you laid?”

Her mouth twitched with suppressed amusement. “There’s always the hope, but I expected it would take more work than a chance meeting over drinks.”

“You’re right. So why do it? Why not wait until Monday lunch?”

“Because you’re out trolling. I can’t do anything about B.O.B., but I can stop you from picking up some asshole in a bar. You want to score, Camila, I’m right here.”

“I’m not trolling. I’m burning off tension after a stressful day.”

“You’re not the only one.” she fingered one of my silver chandelier earrings. “So you drink and dance when you’re tense. I work on the problem that’s making me tense in the first place.”

Her voice had softened, and it stirred an alarming yearning. “Is that what I am? A problem?”

“Absolutely.” But there was a hint of a smile around her lips.

I knew that was a lot of the appeal for her. Lauren Jauregui wouldn’t be where she was, at such a young age, if she took “no” gracefully. “What’s your definition of dating?”

A frown marred the space between her brows. “Lengthy social time spent with a woman during which we’re not actively fucking.”

“Don’t you enjoy the company of women?”

The frown turned into a scowl. “Sure, as long as there aren’t any exaggerated expectations or excessive demands on my time. I’ve found the best way to steer clear of those is to have mutually exclusive sexual relationships and friendships.”

There were those pesky “exaggerated expectations” again. Clearly, those were a sticking point with her. “So, you do have female friends?”

“Of course.” Her legs tightened around mine, capturing me. “Where are you going with this?”

“You segregate sex from the rest of your life. You separate it from friendship, work…everything.”

“I’ve got good reasons for doing that.”

“I’m sure you do. Okay, here are my thoughts.” It was difficult concentrating when I was so close to Lauren. “I told you I don’t want to date and I don’t. My job is priority number one and my personal life—as a single woman—is a close second. I don’t want to sacrifice any of that time on a relationship and there’s really not enough left over to squeeze in anything steady.”

“I’m right there with you.”

“But I like sex.”

“Good. Have it with me.” Her smile was an erotic invitation.

I shoved her shoulder. “I need a personal connection with the men I sleep with. It doesn’t have to be intense or deep, but sex needs to be more than an emotionless transaction for me.”

“Why?”

I could tell she wasn't being flippant. As bizarre as this conversation must be for her, Lauren was taking it seriously. “Call it one of my quirks, and I’m not saying that lightly. It pisses me off to feel used for sex. I feel devalued.”

“Can’t you look at it as you using me for sex?”

“Not with you.” she was too forceful, too demanding.

A sizzling, predatory glimmer sparked in her eyes as I bared my weakness for her.

“Besides,” I went on quickly, “that’s semantics. I need an equal exchange in my sexual relationships. Or to have the upper hand.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You said that really quickly considering I’m telling you I need to combine two things you work so hard to avoid putting together.”

“I’m not comfortable with it and I don’t claim to understand, but I’m hearing you—it’s an issue. Tell me how to get around it.”

My breath left me in a rush. I hadn’t expected that. shewas a woman who wanted no complications with her sex and I was a woman who found sex complicated, but shewasn’t giving up. Yet.

“We need to be friendly, Lauren. Not best buds or confidants, but two people who know more about each other than their anatomy. To me, that means we have to spend time together when we’re not actively fucking. And I’m afraid we’ll have to spend time not actively fucking in places where we’re forced to restrain ourselves.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”

“Yes. And see, that’s what I mean. I wasn’t giving you credit for that. You should’ve done it in a less creepy manner”—I covered her lips with my fingers when she tried to cut me off—“but I admit you did try to set up a time to talk and I wasn’t helpful.”

she snipped my fingers with her teeth, making me yelp and yank my hand away.

“Hey. What was that for?”

she lifted my abused hand to her mouth and kissed the hurt, her tongue darting out to soothe. And incite.

In self-defense, I tugged my hand back to my lap. I still wasn’t completely confident that we’d worked things out. “Just so you know there are no exaggerated expectations—when you and I spend time together not actively fucking, I won’t think it’s a date. All right?”

“That covers it.” Lauren smiled and my decision to be with her solidified for me. Her smile was like lightning in the darkness, blinding and beautiful and mysterious, and I wanted her so badly it was physically painful.

Her hands slid down to cup the backs of my thighs. Squeezing gently, she tugged me just a little bit closer. The hem of my short black halter dress slipped almost indecently high and her gaze was riveted to the flesh he’d exposed. Her tongue wet his lips in an action so carnal and suggestive I could almost feel the caress on my skin.

Duffy began begging for mercy, her voice drifting up from the dance floor below. An unwelcome ache developed in my chest and I rubbed at it.

I’d already had enough, but I heard myself saying, “I need another drink.

[shibalen]

HIYA! This is me ✨ anon! I was about to sleep when you posted this gajshsjs better do it fast- Okay so, I would like a romantic match-up for Akatsuki no Yona and Haikyuu! I dont think I'll be able to summon those other emojis so I would like music box and jewellery box uwu. My nickname is Oya! I am a female with long straight black hairs and black eyes and I wear glasses. I am smol, 160cm, and a bit on the chubby side :"). I am a INTP-T so this shows I am an introverted person. ✨(1/2)✨

I also have trust issues so its really hard for me to open up to new people but once I get to know them I'll never leave their side. I also have anger issues so I bust out at the wrong time hahaha. I love to sleep, eat and be lazy all day doing nothing. If something interests me I would get obsessed with it. I have a disliking towards dogs because of some encounters in the past TvT. Just a little fun fact- sometimes I purr like a kitty 🐯. ✨(2/3)✨ (me made a little mistake I think-)

In a relationship, I would place loyalty and trust over everything else! Oh and I just saw that do you own many plants? Damn my house has like its own garden on the roof. Thanks for this and remember to always take care of yourself and stay safe 🌸 ✨(3/3)✨

♡︎ matchup for ✨anon

howdy! i'm so glad you made it on time. i really hope you enjoy your matches!

akatsuki no yona: i match you with . . .

shin-ah !!

• i know you two sound too similar to be matched but i promise once you come to trust each other the result is the most beautiful !!

• as an intp-t you are easy-going, have rich imagination and don't need extravagant objects in your life to feel happy. i am 100% sure Shin-ah would love these qualities in a lover.

• also, you need not look further for someone loyal and trustworthy because Shin-ah is the perfect example of those traits. no one will cherish you like he does. for you he'd go to the moon and back ♡︎

• he's a little difficult to understand sometimes but over time you learn to read his body language and tone of voice to determine how he's feeling. your bond exceeds the limits of words. it is something much deeper, almost spiritual.

• your relationship development was no doubt a long road, seeing as both of you were rather guarded at first, but i believe it was something that also brought you together.

• before you were ready to join the rest of the gang by the fire during dinners, you would sit by yourself. Shin-ah, being a shy boy but also knowing you were on your guard, began slowly sitting closer to you every time. it was little things like that which made you become closer.

• you grew together very naturally, respecting each others' boundaries until there were almost none between you two (o´ω`o)

• it's so lovely how you're always by each others side, not perhaps always talking but doing things like napping, eating and walking side-by-side. anybody can see what a cute couple you make.

• i'm telling you he's in love with how much passion you have for your interests. when you're telling him about all the plants you like or a crazy dream you had he'd mostly be quiet, hanging on your every word.

• but sometimes you'll catch him with a small smile or muttering "tell me more". you're like his own ray of sunshine

• once to explain it to him, i think he'll be fairly good at understanding your outbursts. he lived with Ao for a long time and knows when someone is under pressure.

• he'll try his best to help you. he has a very calm energy so being about him definitely has a good influence. will very gently reach out to you to get you away from your source of anger. "Oya, let's go."

• giving you his fluff when you're cold !! if you invite him to snuggle up to you, might catch a glimpse of him holding back tears before turning away to wipe them off.

• and speaking of, napping with Shin-ah is the best experience you can ask for: he's so soft and warm, and sometimes he'll hold onto you in his sleep like a small child— gets teased by Jae-Ha about it later shhh

• poor bby gets a little insecure when someone's flirting with you or even having your attention for a little too long :( if you're comfortable with it then he just subtly sulks in the background but if not then he'll be by your side in a second to ward off the character.

• when you're feeling shy or uncomfortable he'll either pull you close to hide within his fluff or pet your head. though he doesn't speak much, his actions speak for themselves.

• he brings you flowers and puts them in your hair. the contrast of your dark hair and light petals make it look like you have a tiny garden on your head, it makes Shin-ah's heart flutter to the point you can see his blush ♡︎

• your dates include romantic moonlit walks in a forest, firefly viewing, napping, making flower crowns and exploring new towns you travel to !!

♫︎ music box

— Dandelions by Ruth B.

— Talk To Me by Cavetown

— Lost In You by Khai Dreams

— Sunshine by Keaton Stormberg

— Angel With A Shotgun by The Cab

♡︎ runner up: Jae-ha

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

haikyuu: i match you with . . .

lev haiba !!

• i know for a fact Lev would l o v e your innovative and curious way of thinking as an intp-t !! also you're chill but don't open up much at first so that raises his curiosity towards you.

• you were classmates but hung around in too different circles to interact properly until . . . you both fell asleep in the same class. the teacher sent you to the corridor to think about your actions.

• while you were feeling embarrassed, Lev was a little cranky that his nap was interrupted and how sleepy he still was. he told you there was nothing to be embarrassed about since it was school in the first place that made you tired.

• despite your differences in personality (and you finding him kind of intimidating), Lev was super friendly and kept talking about volleyball and asking you questions. even afterward he came to talk to you because he honestly found you so pretty and smart and wanted to get to know you more ♡︎

• you soon noticed it was easy to trust him but it wasn't until another while that he asked you out. of course, he wanted to do it sooner but both Kuroo and Yaku said to make sure you were completely comfortable with him first.

• he brought you over to watch when they were having a practice match with Fukurodani. it was great.

• "Oya? " "Oya oya?" "Oya oya oya." i'm sorry i had to

• mate, you guys have over a 30cm height difference !! it's almost a second nature for this boy to pick you up, hug you and spin you around. you drown in his jersey but you know he loves it.

• you don't have to worry about hurting him when getting angry: sunshine boy lets it go easily. he'll only focus of making you feel better by joking around. "it's okay, Oya! compared to Yaku-san you're an angel!"

• when he first heard you purring he was like (´•ω•`)? but then changed to ((っ･ω･)っ lemme hold you you're too cute asdfghjk

• but you know he can be such a blabbermouth sometimes. when he's with the rest of the Nekoma team he can't help but talk about you. how excited you are about your interests, how adorable you are when you're napping, the list never ends, oh dear (¯∇¯٥)

• the boys can't decide whether it's cute or cringe that he has like a hundred pictures of you on his phone and his phone's background is a selfie of the two of you with edited cat ears and whiskers.

• spoiler: it's cute af and it makes him grin everytime he looks at it

• if there aren't any upcoming exams or games you meet up every saturday just to laze around and take it easy. when he gets stressed or is under the weather so being with you is the perfect relief.

• during a particularly rough week he'll complain what sounds like every second of the day. he'll be very whiny and touchy with you until and if you tell him to stop. but at least please hold his hand on your way home !!

• you do dumb but cute stuff together while hanging out like competing who can fit more popcorn in their mouth or doing the duck face with pringles chips and see who will laugh first (it's Lev)

• he can't remember all the types of plants you own so he names them himself. whenever he comes over he'll wave at them and call them something like Tom, Jeffrey or RedWheels666 lol

• a very fulfilling relationship: you provide the down-to-earth approach and the braincells while Lev is the social daredevil that is spontaneous enough for both of you.

• dates with the two of you include stay-at-home dinners with movies, cosy blanket and cuddles, karaoke nights, walks in the park and by ponds as well as visits to zoos and aquariums !!

𑁍 jewellery box

— favourite memory with you:

when you went on a school trip to a beach resort and after a long day of playing beach volleyball and hanging out with friends you two sneaked out to walk along the beach. you were sharing some snacks and chatting away. it was the first time you truly opened up to him. he remembers watching you smile so wide, so beautifully and being absolutely whipped.

— favourite activity to do together:

as much as he l o v e s napping with you, Lev's favourite activity together is, in fact, training. sounds strange, i know, but you don't even have to be athletic or do anything at all, he just likes having you there because you motivate him to do his best. you joke around, and count his pushups—if you're in a gym everyone else is jelly.

— favourite place to kiss you:

your stomach and cheeks. sometimes he challenges you to tickle fights just so he can peck your face with kisses or your belly. they're so soft he can't resist ♡︎

— favourite nicknames to call you by:

baby, because i know he just would. also your nickname and bean because that's what he called you before he knew your name so now it's a running gag between y'all.

— favourite thing about you:

probably that you're just as curious as him about your surroundings. it means that you join in when he gets excited over something instead of scolding him. you also don't mind his blunt nature and know he means well ♡︎

♡︎ runner up: Hajime Iwaizumi

there you go! thank you for the sweet words, i do try taking care though sometimes it's hard (✿^‿^) don't forget to take time off for yourself, dear ♡︎

[theaspers]

Zara! I just got back from a short trip. In a perpetual state of i want to do fuck all 😑 but I really should focus n do things. How are u? Anything random u want to share? My face n upper body r quite sunburnt lol so I've been a hermit trying to recover 😂 thanks for the well wishes on the job hunting. My mood on that journey is like ⬆️↗️➡️↘️⬇️↙️⬅️↖️🤣

I revisited hades after u replied! N spoilers: I got past elysium n then died to the Chambers (items got so expensive n it's multiple pathways to find cerb's treat lol n the poison...) butttttt I came back like next run n got hades to like 1/3 of his health and then died!!!! I'm pretty chuffed tho. I know now heueueue. And I MET THAN! GORGEOUS SOFT DEATH BOI. His voice man 🥰 BTW r zag n than half brothers that share hades as their father? But he cute that ain't no lie. I um am assuming u finished at least one complete run so I hope I ain't spoiling anything? I'm really sorry if I did. Third fury sister met too heueu.

Lololol I'm not really shitting on luci's yukata haha. Tbh I've been into kpop n Korean shows for yearsssss so I feel like nothing really fazes me too much? It's funny seeing ppl shit on Satan so much but I'm like honestly it doesn't hurt my eyes that badly. N his Pepsi yukata looks pre good. Not the worst by a looooooongggg shot. I hope the devs fix up the wonkiness of obey me cuz otherwise they will keep losing players n awesome content creators. V understandable tho. That's also why I probably won't play om and genshin cuz gacha, too stressful n it's kinda nice just evolving the charas by headcanons n imagination alone. The lore is v noice tho. Have u read the genshin manga?

Hahaha it's a good thing I thought of u. The fic does have some grammatical errors (I went back to read it again hehe) but it's just so soft n realistic to me that I thought u might like it. Probably ooc for Thea tho sorry. It's alright if u never get to it or don't like it!

Aww my ask got ate up huh. I sent it in the morning after u recommended achilles to me. It just said that the song is so fucking good. So cathartic n would've been such a help several yrs ago when I was going thru some shit. I love the lyrics, the sound...it's very soothing n I love it a lot. I hope to find more English songs that have such beautiful n haunting lyrics. I'm trying not to make the ask too long so I've dumbed the original ask down a lot. It's going to be long anyways 🙃

I asked about any personal hcs u wanted to share? Mine were that I would call Lucifer: Luce Luce or Luci haha. N I would greet him by saying Luci....fer after making eye contact with his brothers above his shoulder but he would be glaring at me anyways. Ever perceptive Luci. I would like to mess around Belphie by calling him Moo Moo 🤭 I hc that once close, I would go around the dining table every morning n give each bro some individual loving. Some nuzzles, cheek kiss ya know n get to Belphie like wut up moo moo? Lplolol thanks for letting me ramble haha this is sort of embarrassing. Can u tell my love language is physical touch 💖

Haha no worries about ur messy blog tho. I love the stuff u reblog. Some legit quality content n it's so amusing seeing the juxtaposition between the sfw n the NSFW. Ur duality zara never fails to make me laugh. If u want u can guess my height. What vibes do I give off? I have a feeling my answer will make u v happy ☺️ ALSO DUDE UR FIRST LANG AIN'T ENGLISH? WAT IS THIS BLASPHEMY? THAT'S SO FUCKIN IMPRESSIVE. KUDOS TO U SON. Wow. damn. U. R. So. Cool. 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️ Ahem finally much love to Luci anon. Better reinstate their rightful emojis hehe. Thanks for letting me visit again 💙 - (not a) worker lurker

long answer so under a cut hehe.

hey there!! sorry i took so long to reply shsjs but anw hope you’ve been doing well. i have been doing alright too? i guess? lol i have no idea. i’m simply just vibing. i hope the sunburn’s not bothering u as much anymore though! and still wishing you lots of luck on the job hunting front!

oooh, glad to hear that you’ve made some progress on hades! you’re not spoiling anything at all so don’t worry hehe. i wish you luck on your future runs, you can do it!! (side note: those stupid rats. i swear. i hate them so much 😭) AHH THAN!! isn’t he just so precious? 🥺 like i realise he is death but he’s so. soft 🥺 and no!! afaik they’re not related lol i think nyx might have just. made him and hypnos? they grew up together tho, i think. oooh, love the fury sisters. they’re very interesting hehe. definitely missed playing the game but i’m still not in the mood to play it unfortunately. i miss zag tho. and hypnos. ugh one day i’ll pick it back up again 🥺😭

shdjd same tho. and ur right. after seeing all the kpop idol outfits, nothing fazes me anymore. plus i don’t think their outfits are the worst thing ever tbh :’) ugh, i agree. the main route itself is getting harder to play and the non-stop events are tiring. i want to hope that they slow down a lil bit but idk. kinda doubt they will. and the obm gacha rate is terrible but at the end of the day, it is gacha, right? :’) genshin is horrible gacha wise but there’s always a lot to do, and places to explore. plus they’re still updating the game so i’m sure it’ll remain relevant for a little while longer. i haven’t read the manga fully but i have seen bits and pieces, and some screenshots. diluc and kaeya look amazing in them 😭

oof yeah, i still love listening to achilles come down. it’s so good!! definitely very cathartic. i’m glad you enjoy it too. 🥰

ahaha, ngl i just always call him luci tbh. i know he probably doesn’t like it. but like lucifer is just a mouthful to say sometimes hehe i just know he’ll get his revenge on u for calling him that tho. belphie moo moo shdjd that’s kinda cute?? hmm. i don’t think i have nicknames for them tbh? :0 just kinda. shorten their names lol. and there’s nothing wrong with having physical touch as ur love language!! hehe i think that’s cute. i’m sure they enjoy the show of affection anw. i think i would just be way too shy to do anything like that tho :’)

ik people tell me they enjoy the messiness but sometimes i scroll through and get so embarrassed 😭 like i would like to not be perceived, please and thank u. but i’m glad that u enjoy my blog, regardless 😭 your height? :0 oof that’s a bit tough. you don’t radiate short ppl energy. wanna say ur probably average height shdkd and no, that’s definitely not me projecting my own height onto other people :’)

yeah, english isn’t my first language shdjd 😭 but i have been speaking/learning it for a while now. doesn’t matter tho, i still makes mistakes occasionally ahdjd but i’ve stopped caring lolol luci anon has yet to pop up again but it’s okay hehe they’ll get back their rights eventually hehe oh, and thank you for dropping by!! much love 💖💖💖

[ethereousdelirious]

This is not finished but I’m posting it anyway 1) because I’m honestly not sure if I’ll ever finish it and 2) because it’s a CRIME that I haven’t whumped P\ercy yet

This is exactly the kind of fic that middle school aged Ethereous would have lost their shit over haha

Fandom: C\ritical R\ole C\ampaign 1

Characters: P\ercy, V\ex, K\eyleth

Pairing: N/A

Tropes: a\ppendicitis, caretaking, vomiting in semi-public

Summary: There’s not much to it honestly-- It’s the obligatory a\ppendicitis fic that every f\andom needs

Warnings/Notes: Brief mention of vomiting (nothing explicit) As far as symptoms, I had a\ppendicitis when I was 10, so I kinda based this on what I remember, plus prettying some things up to make for a more engaging story Spoiler-free, plausibly canon

It wasn't unusual for Percy to wake up feeling like absolute shit. In fact, that was more often the case than not. It came with being a wanderer, he supposed.

Still, warm in his bed at Greyskull Keep, he had expected to wake up feeling refreshed, not like death warmed over.

He sat up slowly and his stomach gave an angry pulse in response. That was okay, then. He could handle a stomach ache, a little nausea.

He got dressed, leaving his coat behind, and headed downstairs to see who was awake.

The smell of bacon greeted him, and his stomach gave a nervous little flutter. 

Vex and Keyleth were both awake, although they were doing more conversing than eating. Percy sat down to join them and immediately poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Morning, Percy," Vex said. She leaned over and took the mug from him. "Thank you, darling."

Percy took this in stride and merely poured out another cup. "Some for you as well, Keyleth?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Oh, no thank you."

"You look pale," Vex said conversationally, stealing the cream out from under Percy's hand.

"I should hope so," Percy said back. "I'd be quite concerned if I wasn't."

"You do look pale," Keyleth agreed. "Did you not sleep well?"

"I slept just fine," Percy said, stealing the cream back from Vex. "I'm always pale. I'm a pale person."

"You know what I meant." Vex gave him a keen look and nudged a plate of bacon toward him. "Humor me and eat something."

Sensing a trap, Percy took a dignified sip of his coffee. "Later."

"He'd tell if something was wrong," Keyleth said pointedly to Vex. "Wouldn't you, Percy?"

He gave her his most winning smile. "Of course I would, dear."

"Alright," Vex grumbled. "You still look pale, though."

Percy, keen to drop the subject, let her have the last word on it. "So, shopping today?"

To his surprise, Vex scoffed. "I know Vax is going to want to get an eyeful of Gilmore's Glorious Goods, if you know what I mean."

Percy choked on his coffee. His side throbbed momentarily and he crossed his free arm over his stomach.

"Vex!" Keyleth was turning a furious red.

"What? He has no shame about it!" 

"Well," Percy said diplomatically, "perhaps we can go separately. I would like to see Gilmore."

"Oh, me too," Keyleth said. "I want to see what kind of books he has."

"Well, I," Vex said dramatically, "want a new dress. Why not, right? We have the money. What do you think, Keyleth? Want to come dress shopping with me?"

"Ooh, yes!" Keyleth beam.

"And you, Percy? Want to buy a dress?"

"No comment,” Percy said. “Although I would be happy to accompany you if you don't mind stopping by a blacksmith's after. I could use some more scrap metal."

"We should leave early, then," Vex said. "Vax is going to want to stick together and it's going to hurt his feelings if we all tease him about Gilmore."

They left not long after. Percy was pleased to find that he had made it through breakfast without actually having to eat anything, and neither Vex nor Keyleth noticed.

He had never been sick like this before-- His stomach ached a little, particularly on the right side, and he felt a bit nauseated, but that was it. It got a little worse when they were walking, but not by much.

It was just distracting, that was all.

Unfortunately, he had nothing else to think about while Vex and Keyleth fawned over dresses together.

"This green one would look so pretty on you," Vex said, pointing one out to Keyleth. "Don't you think so, Percy?" 

"Hm?" He shook himself and uncrossed his arms.

Vex frowned, the dress forgotten. "Are you okay? You really don't look well."

"I'm," Percy's breath stuttered in his chest, which was odd, "fine." He swallowed, suddenly feeling much worse.

Vex frowned, obviously not buying it. She and Keyleth rounded on him in sync. "You're sure? Nothing's wrong?" she pressed.

Gods, but Vex was scary when she wanted to be. Keyleth too. "I'm… A bit tired, I suppose?" Percy admitted. "I can handle a bit of shopping, it's not like I'm about to collapse or anything." His side gave a sharp throb and he winced.

Keyleth was on him in an instant. "What was that?"

"Alright, alright, for goodness' sake." Percy put up his hands. "Really, I just feel a bit off. You've never had an off day? I promise I'm not so noble or stupid that I would insist on spending a day out shopping when I should be in bed."

This at last seemed to pacify Vex and Keyleth.

"Okay, but tell us if you need to go home, alright?" Vex said.

Percy tried not to roll his eyes. "I will."

He didn't. Not when a cold sweat started to form on the back of his neck, not when his stomach began to roil, not when the pain got so bad he had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out. For one thing, he wasn't even sure he could walk the few meters across the shop to get Vex's attention.

How did it get this bad? One minute he had been lightly bored in a dress shop, and the next--

He bit his lip and swallowed back a wave of nausea. He needed to leave, now, and he was paralyzed.

"Vex?" he managed, his voice tight and thready, "Keyleth?"

Keyleth heard him. She looked over and her eyes widened. "Oh, Percy." She went to him and placed a cool, soft hand on his forehead. "Oh, Percy," she said again. "Oh, no."

"Can we please go now?" Percy asked through gritted teeth.

"Let me get Vex."

Percy nodded and Keyleth turned away. The pain began to subside, not by much, but enough that he longer felt in danger of collapsing. His shoulders relaxed a bit. By the time Keyleth returned with Vex he was breathing normally and was even confident he could walk, at least a short distance.

"Percy, what's wrong? Vex asked.

"I'm, uh," he paused, trying to find words that wouldn't worry her too much, "I think I need to go home."

"He's burning up, Vex," Keyleth said.

"Oh, darling." Vex put a hand on his forehead.

"We should go," Percy said, keenly aware of the melodrama about to unfold. He knew for a fact he wasn't going to make it back without vomiting, and he would really rather not do inside the shop.

"What's the matter?" Vex asked. She looked at him and evidently noticed the way he had his arms wrapped around himself. "Is it your stomach?"

"Yes," Percy said urgently. It was starting to get bad again, centered around his right side. "Let's go. Please."

Vex and Keyleth flanked him and steered him out of the shop. His movements were stiff, clumsy. They weren't moving nearly as fast as he wanted to, but his body didn't seem to want to work.

Despite the bright spring sun, he was starting to shiver, and the pain was so bad it brought tears to his eyes.

This did not go unnoticed.

"Oh, Percy," Keyleth breathed. "Do you want to stop for a bit?"

"No," he said through gritted teeth.

"Do you think Pike will be able to help with this?" Vex asked.

"I'm sure she will," Keyleth said. 

Percy pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders to try to stave off the violent shivers wracking his frame. His whole body was shaking with pain and cold.

He looked around frantically. It was late enough in the morning that streets were bustling and there was very little privacy to be found. His stomach lurched and he stopped abruptly, doubling over in pain.

Vex tugged sharply on his arm. He staggered after her with Keyleth in tow, nearly blinded by the agonizing throb in his side.

"It's okay, Percy," Vex was saying. Someone was stroking his hair. He fell to his hands and knees and vomited. The pain dulled somewhat and he took in a few shallow, rasping breaths. "I s-swear it wasn't this bad this morning," he said. He hauled himself to his feet and looked around. Vex had led him to an empty alleyway.

"I know," Vex said, her brow furrowed. "We're almost home."

Percy wiped his mouth on his sleeve, making a note to avoid this part of town for a while. Again, the waves of agony seemed to be dying down, though it never completely went away. His fever certainly wasn't getting any better.

The world took on a vague, sort of dreamy quality as he walked, until suddenly they were back at Greyskull and he was staring at the landing on the top of the stairs.

Shivering head to toe, he leaned on the banister and started to ascend the stairs, with Vex stationed at his side and Keyleth behind him. He made it without assistance and collapsed into bed without bothering to take off his boots.

"We need to find Pike," Vex said.

"I think," Percy kicked aimlessly at his calf, trying to remove his boot without sitting up, "I'm sorry, I think I need a proper doctor."

"Is it really that bad?" Vex put her hand on his forehead again and brushed his damp hair out of his face. "Poor thing." She put her other hand on his stomach and he flinched away reflexively. "Did that hurt?" she asked.

"A bit," Percy said.

"Percy," she said sharply, "where exactly does it hurt?"

"Ah…" He opened his coat and gestured at the lower right of his abdomen, scared to even touch it.

"Shit."

"What is it?" Keyleth asked, wide-eyed.

"This happened to Vax, when we were kids. Magic can't cure it. They had to do surgery to fix it. He still has the scar."

"Surgery?" Percy said, trying to keep the note of fear out of his voice. He knew there were some illnesses that magic simply couldn't cure, but this… He'd never had surgery before. The idea of someone cutting him open made his skin crawl.

"It's urgent," Vex said. She turned to Keyleth. "Here, take all my money and go. Please."

"Are you sure?" Keyleth looked at Percy.

"You can't both stay and fuss over me," Percy said. He closed his eyes. "I hate to be a bother but, when you decide, can the person who remains please take my boots off?"

"Alright, I'll go," Vex said.

Percy sighed through his nose.

"Alright, boots off," Keyleth said with false cheer. She tugged off Percy's boots and stared down at him. "Do you want to go under the covers?"

"No, thank you," Percy said.